The Inevitable Tends to Happen
by EvvieJo
Summary: What would have happened if Kurt hadn't met Blaine on the Dalton staircase? Well, maybe they would meet on a different set of stairs, say, at NYADA? Because you cannot escape what's inevitable. AU with some post-2x05 canon preserved.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The door to the poky apartment creaked open before Kurt. The last slanting rays of August sun managed to sneak in between the buildings of Brooklyn and through the soiled windows. He was growing accustomed to the idea of living in an apartment instead of the noisy over-crowded dorm he had to share a room at last year. He had no desire of repeating the experience of having a sexually hyperactive roommate, especially considering that it usually meant Kurt had to bear listening to the distinct sounds of porn movies, that seeped through his headphones, no matter how much he turned the volume up.

Another perk of being out of the dorm was having slightly more to say décor-wise. The apartment was freshly painted and the chemical smell persisted in the air. The walls of the main room – which was separated from the kitchen only by a high counter with a couple of slightly wobbly bar chairs beside it – were aubergine, while all the cupboards in the room and kitchen Kurt had repainted with a silvery grey furniture enamel. The old couch and armchair that stood in the room probably since before the last tenant moved in (or even before the previous one had), were now covered by matching duvets Kurt found in some amazingly cheap furnishing shop, when he was out investigating his new neighbourhood. The duvets were light lilac with black Art Nouveau-style motifs printed on them.

Kurt's bedroom – which he had picked, without waiting for Rachel to choose her own room – he had painted in two colours: two walls were ecru, and the other two were deep scarlet. Perfect, adult, but subtle. Valuing highly the benefits of getting plenty of sleep – it did miracles for his complexion, though, granted, not for his hair – he had talked his dad into getting him an insanely broad and comfortable bed. The bed frame was cast iron and black, very classy. Burt had been slightly concerned about the breadth of this particular piece of furniture, since it brought to his mind all kinds of images unwelcome to any parent of a college student living on their own. But he had tried (not entirely successfully) to hide his worries from his son.

A desk, a bookcase and a wardrobe – another item probably too big for the apartment – took up most of the remaining space of Kurt's room. But it didn't matter that he had a limited living space – it was still more than at the dorm. And he was to share this hole with his best friend in the entire world.

Rachel requested to have her room painted gold, but no matter how hard Kurt tried, he could simply find _no_ paint that would be gold and not look horribly cheesy. When he had broken the news to his friend, she'd sighed with disappointment and ordered yellow walls and "something with gold stars on it". Kurt had had no idea what she meant by "something", so he picked a dark blue lamp shade with small printed golden stars, as well as a gold star-shaped cushion that rested on an armchair that had already been shipped from Lima to her new room, along with some smaller elements of furniture, curtains, books, clothes and kitchen utensils.

Kurt closed the door behind him and dropped the bags of cleaning equipment. He had two more days before Rachel's arrival. She was spending the last two weeks of August in Florida with her dads. It was supposed to be the "last Berry family vacation before their little Rachel is all grown-up and at college". It was also supposed to be the beginning of a non-mopey, moving-on Rachel. A chief part of the previous fourteen months she had spent depressed over Finn breaking up with her to join the Army ("The Army! The freaking Army, Kurt! What is he even thinking?! He's so ungainly, he's probably going to shoot off his own foot the first moment he's handed a gun!"), and calling Kurt at all hours to cry into her pink gleaming cell phone, as he patiently listened to her sobs. When Rachel hadn't been mourning the love of her life leaving her, she had been preparing to audition for NYADA once more. She had decided there was no way in hell she'd choke again, and in the end – having discussed her choice of song with Kurt a zillion times and changed her mind twice as many times – she did not choke. She apparently was "one of the few people who could capture the heartbreak described by _On My Own_, without a shade of a false note". Mr Schue had told her after the audition (he had been lurking in the wings of the McKinley auditorium) that she'd been great when she was trying out for glee club, but that performance was just perfect and nothing less. Obviously, his words could not ease her impatience when she was later waiting for her letter from NYADA, but it was still nice to hear them.

And finally, in June, the letter came, announcing that she'd be joining her best friend in their dream school. That also meant that they would be a year apart, her a freshman, and him a sophomore, but they'd be _together in New York_ at long last.

Kurt went back to Lima for the summer vacation, with the intention of spending some time with his dad and Carole, but as Burt was frequently in D.C. on Congress business, a good chunk of what was supposed to be family time changed into friend time. Or rather Rachel time (as he barely got the chance to meet his other glee club friends). She had to hear everything about NYADA. Every single detail there was to know. So he told her. But then she had to hear it again, and again… The first few times he had answered patiently, but after some five or six times he got frustrated and told her to wait and see. She got slightly offended. Still, she called two days later to ask if he wanted to maybe practice some numbers from _Wicked_, for the fun of it. It was "their" show, after all.

At some point, Kurt even met up with Chandler, but the coffee they had at the Bean was awfully awkward and he decided to avoid his ex-boyfriend as much as he could in the future. With Chandler studying at Parsons it was, however, a little more difficult, than if he was stuck in Ohio. But Kurt kept repeating to himself that "NYC is big enough for us not the cross paths."

It's not that he didn't like Chandler. He did, he really did. His enthusiastic demeanour and the numerous things they had in common had always drawn Kurt to Chandler. And the compliments, oh, of course, so had the compliments. But despite all that, Kurt had felt almost from the very beginning that relationship was never meant to last. After they'd split up, some two months into the previous academic year – when Kurt was already at NYADA, and Chandler still stuck in Ohio, after failing to get into his dream school, NYU – Kurt concluded that maybe they were a little bit too similar in some way, and that made them incompatible.

And then Rachel went to Florida with her dads, excited to go to Disneyworld for the second time in her life (to "relive the experience"), and Kurt flew to New York to set up the apartment. Since then it had all been paints and brushes, and décor shops, and cleaning. He was pretty exhausted. Cleaning would have to wait until tomorrow.

He laid down on the couch and drifted off to sleep, without even taking his clothes off. This is how exhausted Kurt Hummel was.

* * *

Blaine had arrived at his dorm exactly three days before the Fall semester was to start at NYADA. His parents had made sure he was settled in, safe and content, they kissed and hugged him goodbye, and left for their plane back to Ohio. He was a tiny bit disappointed their work schedules didn't let them stay for even a day more. But that also meant he had a day more of getting used to being alone in the city, before the craziness of college started.

He woke up in the morning, the first time he ever woke up in New York, in an almost empty building. Most students were probably still on their way to college for the new semester. Blaine decided to unpack all his stuff before his roommate gets to the dorm and into his way. He still felt uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a room with anyone, not to mention someone he'd never even laid his eyes on. He was only keeping his fingers crossed that someone would be a bearable cohabitant.

The thought of being in New York and starting NYADA was still surreal for Blaine. He barely resisted the urge to pinch himself every two minutes. Him, the seemingly confident, somewhat awkward weirdo with too much gel in his hair, him, Blaine Anderson from Kenton, Ohio, to be studying at the best musical theatre college in the whole of US? He couldn't feel any different than as if he was living an intently vivid dream, from which he could sadly wake up any second.

He didn't take many things with him, just a couple of suitcases of clothes and books, and his laptop to stay in touch with his parents (they were far more keen on doing that than him, though). Blaine would have loved taking more clothes, but decided he didn't want to stand out too much. Sure, this was no longer Ohio, and probably no one would care about him being gay, especially at NYADA (isn't loving musical theatre part of the gay man stereotype, after all?). Still, he didn't want to be _too_ obvious. He couldn't resist, however, taking some bow-ties from his vast collection with him.

Blaine was halfway through stuffing his clothes into the wardrobe on the right-hand side of the room, which he chose for himself using the absence of his future roommate, when he heard some bustle coming from the corridor. Someone was walking down the hallway, dragging a suitcase on the floor and banging with their hand on the wood paneling of the walls. Blaine only hoped to himself that wasn't his roommate.

When the door opened a few seconds later, only one word came to Blaine's mind in response.

'Fuck.'

'The name's actually Trent, but you couldn't have known that,' said the guy behind him.

Blaine turned around embarrassed. The boy was tall – or at least relatively tall when compared with Blaine – with light brown hair that fell on his eyes. He was chewing a gum without closing his mouth properly in the process. Yuck. He only had one scuffed suitcase and a backpack with him.

'Sorry, I didn't mean it like that,' said Blaine awkwardly. 'I'm Blaine.'

'It's cool, bro.' He threw his backpack vaguely in the direction of his part of the room and left his suitcase in the very centre of it. Then he flopped onto his bed, appraising Blaine with his eyes. 'You have some funny hair, dude.'

For some reason Blaine resented being called _bro_ or _dude_ by someone he'd met no more than a minute earlier, especially someone who didn't seem particularly friendly to him. Someone who made fun of his hair. It was a sure way to get on Blaine's nerves.

'So- Didn't your parents drive you or something?,' asked Blaine, trying to be nice and welcoming to Trent.

The other boy just laughed.

'You kiddin'? Nah, I came alone. They don't really care that much about my college.'

'Why?'

Trent snickered.

''Cause they think it's a waste of time. That if I want to be an actor I should go to LA, and not to some fancy-ass musical theatre college in NYC,' he said mockingly.

'Oh, I see.'

The conversation died naturally. Blaine felt slightly uncomfortable with what he had heard and didn't want to pursue the topic. He carried on arranging his things, while Trent laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling, apparently feeling no need to take care of his own luggage.

When Blaine ran out of things to do in his dorm, he decided on a little exploratory trip around Manhattan. Without a hint of guilt, he left Trent in the room and directed his steps out of the building.

* * *

The day before the Fall semester was starting at NYADA, Kurt went to La Guardia to pick up Rachel and her dads. They had returned to Lima for a day to gather all of Rachel's belongings that were absolutely indispensable for her and got on a plane for New York earlier that morning. LeRoy and Hiram were too eager to see Kurt and Rachel's apartment to be talked into letting their daughter go on her own. And of course, she was their little girl, how could they let her go off to college alone? They had to make sure she had a roof over her head, that she was safe and happy.

The moment Rachel spotted Kurt from the line at the airport, she started waving at him enthusiastically. He raised his hand in greeting, smiling patronizingly. When she finally managed to get to him, she pulled him into a rib-crushing cuddle.

'I missed you so much, Kurt,' she said into his chest.

'Yeah, I missed you, too.'

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes over her head, seeing Mr Berrys approaching with smiles on their faces.

'Hi, Kurt. How's the city?,' asked LeRoy, extending his hand for Kurt to shake.

'Amazing, as always,' he said, grinning. ' How was your flight?'

'Oh, fine,' cut in Rachel. 'Let's go to our apartment, pleeeeeeaaaaaase.'

She made a sad puppy face. There could be no discussion.

They grabbed Rachel's suitcases from the baggage carousel and caught a cab. By some miracle only, they managed to squeeze all of her things into the trunk.

When they clambered out of the cab at the feet of their building, Mr Berrys' faces showed a tinge of discontentment.

'Is this the place?," Hiram asked, looking around.

'Oh my God, this is perfect!,' squealed Rachel, visibly pleased. 'This is just how I've imagined Brooklyn!'

'To be precise, this is Greenpoint,' clarified Kurt, when a couple of (apparently new) immigrants passed them and a strange word – that he'd heard a few times before since moving to Greenpoint – reached his ears in the flow of their conversation. It sounded like _coorvah_. Kurt suspected it was Polish for something ordinary, as it seemed to be an awfully popular lexical item in a district with a big Polish American population.

Hiram and LeRoy each carried an enormous suitcase, while Rachel and Kurt took two smaller ones and Kurt led them upstairs, to the third storey. He unlocked the door and pushed it open wide to let the rest in first.

'Kurt! This is amazing!,' shouted Rachel, beaming.

Mr Berrys looked at each other to coordinate facial expressions.

'Well, that's true, it looked rather inconspicuous from the outside', said LeRoy.

'Thank you, Kurt, so much for doing everything!,' Rachel bear-hugged Kurt once more. 'Where's my room?'

She let him go and eyed him quizzically.

'Just a sec, Rache,' he said, reaching into the pocket of his smart grey Marc Jacobs coat. 'That's yours'.

He handed her a set of keys on a golden star keychain.

'Aww, Kurt! Thanks.' She gave him a peck on the cheek.

'You're welcome.'

The remaining of the day was spent over lunch ('You really didn't have to cook, Kurt, we could go out', 'Oh, no, it's just a salad, don't be silly'), small talk ('So how's your dad's work in Congress going?'), swooning over Kurt's talent as a decorator and getting Mr Berrys back to La Guardia for their plane to Ohio. When they finally got back, Rachel got a panic attack, because she never got around to thinking what to wear her first day at NYADA, and she had to "make a killer first impression". Having picked out an outfit for her debut at college – a plain, but classy cream dress with a high waist, a dark blue jacket and a pair of nude heels she had bought following his advice back in Lima.

After the fashion crisis was over, they sat in the kitchen with cups of hot tea in their hands and chatted, until midnight, when they bid each other goodnight and parted in the hallway.

* * *

At eight thirty the following morning, Kurt and Rachel stood in front of NYADA's main building, grinning inanely at their college. For some reason, even though he'd already spent a year in this very school, it all felt very new to Kurt. He thought it could be just the presence of Rachel. She could be a pain in the ass, that was true, and sometimes he really did want to strangle her, but having been separated from her for so many months (minus her tearful phone calls every night), he realized that he'd rather get annoyed by her twenty four seven, than spend so much time away from his best friend. Their bond had been born out of fierce rivalry, but once they looked past that, they both came to realize there was no other person who got them like the other did.

'I'm _so_ excited!,' said Rachel, her hands balled into fists right under her chin.

'Relax, you're going to rule this place,' repeated for the thousandth time Kurt.

'Oh, no, I would _not_ take your job from you.' She bumped one of her fists into his arm, as he rolled his eyes.

She was right, though. The teachers at NYADA were _in love_ with Kurt. Suddenly it turned out he was not just talented, or extraordinary, he was one of a kind. There could be many people in NYADA, many great singers, or actors, or dancers. There were plenty of gay guys, for sure (Kurt estimated they constituted some fifty to sixty percent of the male element at the school). There was even one other countertenor. But all those people were, quite simply, not Kurt. As it seemed, he embodied everything the teachers wanted from the next Broadway star: an exceptional voice, a stunning stage presence, impeccable acting, great dancing, a unique personality, and an ability to learn fast. Kurt had it all. And, on top of that, he was remarkably _humble_.

They spent good five minutes just staring at the school, while some students passed them and went in almost half an hour too early for classes. Finally Kurt and Rachel followed suit. Kurt instructed her quickly on how to get to each class, wished her good luck, and went his way.

Then he remembered something and ran up the main stairs after her.

'Rache, coffee in the lunch break, remember!,' he called after her.

'I know, go now!,' she shooed him away, still walking towards her class at the end of the hallway.

He chuckled to himself and started back down the stairs. He didn't pay much attention to the people around him, until-

'Excuse me, can I ask you a question, I'm new here.'

His head snapped up. He was already at the bottom step, and the guy who had stopped him was a little further up.

Kurt's eyes slid from the guy's shiny shoes, through his bare ankles, well-fitted blue pants and dark red sweater to his gel-coated hair. Then his gaze went back to his eyes. Beautifully framed by black eyelashes. Hazel.

Kurt regained control over his mind and manners.

'My name's Kurt,' he said, outstretching his hand.

The other guy smiled at him shyly, but warmly and fixed his hazel eyes at Kurt's blue-green, reaching to squeeze his hand.

'Blaine.'

* * *

**A/N: ** Just a couple of comments. My story sticks to canon in many ways, there are only a few major shifts: the facts that Kurt and Blaine never met in high school, and that Kurt got into NYADA, and Rachel didn't until the following year. Everything else stems from those.

Also, please forgive me, if I seem inconsistent in using British and American English. I'm trying to stick to the British spelling, because, well, that's the variety I usually use, but I use American vocabulary, as the story is set in America.

I'll try to keep on updating regularly, but writer's block is a frequent visitor in Casa EvvieJo, so I can't really guarantee anything.

Thanks for reading! (If there was anyone who actually did that).


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A few seconds passed in silence, as both were peering into the other's eyes, until they realized how creepy it could seem.

'Um- Yeah, I need to get to Mr- Whatshisface- Julian's class, and I have no idea where anything is in here. Maybe you could help me out?,' said Blaine finally.

'Sure, I can,' Kurt answered, going into his perfect-NYADA-boy mode. 'First off, it's not _Mr Julian_, it's Pierre. He's not French or anything, he simply thinks he's way too fabulous to be a _Peter_, so he makes people call him Pierre instead.' Blaine chuckled quietly, following Kurt, who directed his steps down the stairs and to his left. 'Secondly, his class is on the first floor. I was going in that direction anyway, my class is right opposite.'

Kurt paused and sent Blaine a short smile of encouragement. Apparently there was a reason to believe he needed to be reassured.

'No need to worry, Pierre's okay. Just don't disagree with him too much, and you'll be fine.'

'Thanks, I guess I needed to hear something like that,' said Blaine. 'And what year are you in?'

'I'm a sophomore. And, believe me, I've been as lost as you are at the beginning. It's quite a change being here after Lima, Ohio.' He barked a laugh.

Blaine raised his eyebrows, interested.

'Lima? You gotta be kidding me!'

'Nope, unfortunately, not kidding at all,' replied Kurt and sighed heavily.

Blaine felt there was a double meaning behind his words, but you can't really go around and try to psychoanalyse people you've just met, can you? Still, there was a barely visible thread that appeared to link them in some way unknown to them, although both were able to detect it.

Trying to dispel the solemn mood, Blaine started speaking again.

'Well, I'm from Kenton. Right now it almost seems like we're neighbours.'

Kurt smiled sadly at him.

'Nice to know I'm not the only one who managed to get away.' He didn't even know himself if he meant it literally or metaphorically, or maybe both. 'Anyway, that's your classroom,' he pointed to the door they had just reached. 'Mine's there, so I- I probably should be going. See you around.'

'Thanks again,' said Blaine, when Kurt already had his back to him.

Kurt turned around with a courteous smile.

'You're welcome. And good luck.'

His classroom's door stood open, thank goodness, and he slipped in. Something in this encounter set his heart racing, his palms sweating… He swallowed, and sucked in a few deep breaths to steady himself and focus his thoughts on his first class of the year.

Meanwhile, Blaine entered the classroom on the opposite side of the hallway, with a subconscious smile on his face and his thoughts muddled.

* * *

Kurt was sitting in a dim-lit café at a small round table across from Rachel. He was sipping his non-fat latte, listening idly to her chatter about her first classes at NYADA. She was still high on adrenaline and probably incapable of seeing things clearly and objectively. Otherwise, there is no way she could be _this_ enthusiastic about the remarkably boring History of Musical Theatre lecture she'd attended just before the lunch break. Kurt was also expecting a slight change of tone of their conversations once she'd met the greatest fear of all NYADA students – the deceptively innocent-looking Cassandra July, in charge of Dance classes.

But for now, he just kept on nodding and dropping an "Uh-huh", "Sure", or any other word with no actual meaning from time to time. Kurt knew Rachel well enough to be aware that sometimes it wasn't necessary to listen to her – she just wanted to talk, hear her own voice, and have the illusion that she's being listened to. So he sat there with his coffee, over the crumbs of their oatmeal muffins, while she was babbling and taking an occasional sip of her cappuccino.

'So how were your classes?,' she asked finally.

That caught him off guard. The question grabbed his attention only because of the pronoun. Did she really ask about him, instead of honking on about herself?

'What?'

'I knew you weren't listening!,' she said indignantly.

'Sorry, Rache, I just drifted off for a second. What were you saying?'

Rachel rolled her eyes.

'I asked how your classes were.'

So he'd heard her right. His eyebrows shot up.

'You're asking me about _my_ classes? Really?' She nodded. 'Who are you and what have you done to Rachel Berry?!' He feigned a terrified expression.

'I realized recently that- um- that I can be a selfish bitch and that I could try and be a little bit less like that at least when it came to my best friend with whom I now live.'

She dropped her eyes to the table for a moment, and when she raised them again, she smiled timidly at him.

'Oh my god, Rachel! You trying to be selfless with me – I'm touched.' He said it jokingly, but in fact, he meant every word. 'And by the way, it's not that you can be a selfish bitch, you _usually_ are one.'

She made an offended face, but then composed her expression.

'Yeah, I guess you're right. But I'm trying now, so at least answer my question.' She flashed her teeth in a quick smile.

'Normal, my classes were normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not much new stuff so far. You've heard it all last year and then in the summer.' He shrugged.

'You make me feel bad that I'm always the one talking.'

* * *

A vast majority of Kurt's acquaintances at NYADA would probably tell you his life was a dream come true. He was immensely talented, looked like he walked straight out of a GQ spreadsheet, had an endearing personality and his dad was a Congressman. Apart from all that, he also seemed to be incredibly comfortable in his own skin, truly out and proud.

But the people who met Kurt only after he'd moved to New York did not know the whole story. They did not know about the self-loathing he had to conquer, or the bullying he had to endure.

The slushies thrown in his face, being tossed into dumpsters or called names… At some point it started to simply bounce off him. The pain dulled, even the ice felt a little less freezing. The bullying never stopped, but Kurt had developed an armour that shielded him by keeping his emotions hidden and buried deep below the surface. It was like an evolutionary development; a survival mechanism triggered by too much negative experience.

The armour – with no dent or scratch – protected him from every assault. Until the attack he came under was too severe for his shell to repel.

Although it had been almost three years ago, Kurt could recall it as if not even a day had passed. He could remember it all. The screech of the tires, the heavy footsteps, the cold November air on his skin, the wet sidewalk plastered to his cheek. The kicks, the blows, the pain. The fear nobody would come and he'd die there, all alone, the way he had been all this time. All alone against his bully.

The healing process stretched over a few weeks. The broken ribs throbbed, the bruises faded from almost-black purple to yellowish, the stitches were taken out of the cut lip. Several scars remained, marking his body for good, the most prominent one being the pale line going vertically through the left side of his lower lip to a few millimeters below it. No matter how much he tried to conceal it with make-up, it never worked, so he gave up the attempts. People were rarely bold enough to ask how he got the scar, and when they did, he said he had had an accident and didn't go into details.

On the inside, however, he never fully recovered. Even when he had met Chandler, and he was no longer alone, the wounds were there, the fear never went away. They avoided going out, especially when it was dark, after Kurt had once freaked out (they were walking back to the Hummels' from the movie theatre, when a car somewhere near them stopped with a screech; Kurt stalled and began to tremble uncontrollably; Chandler held him and soothed him for fifteen minutes before Kurt calmed down enough to make any motion at all). Moving to New York did wonders to his self-esteem and he no longer felt as threatened as he did in Lima. But there was still a dread in him that at some point in time he'd run out of luck and someone would make him as terrified again.

And he cringed at the sound of tires screeching. And he shivered every time someone seemed to be walking a little too close behind him.

But no one really knew. Rachel, Burt, Carole, Finn, Mercedes, and Chandler, they knew most of it. Nobody knew it all.

* * *

Meeting him for the first time, Blaine could not possibly have had any idea about the experiences Kurt had had prior to that moment. Yet the subtle bond that seemed to have formed, made him subconsciously aware they were alike.

Cold November air also made him remember the most terrifying moments in his life. But it wasn't a braking car or kicks that stuck in his memory forever.

He still remembered everything very vividly, almost four years later. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could hear the muffled noises of a school dance, the piercing cries they uttered and the jeering laughs of their assailants. The spit on his face.

The utter, overwhelming sense of humiliation when people started streaming out of the school, just to see them lying there, bloody from the baseball bats. Blood mixing with their sweat and tears, and the attackers' saliva.

Like Kurt, in a few weeks time, Blaine was back on his feet, his right fibula no longer broken, the internal haemorrhage long since stopped and the bruises not perceptible anymore. But he still felt as if a great chunk of flesh had been removed from his chest, a gaping, irreparable hole. It took away almost all of the little courage he had had. He wished he had never come out. He wished he had never gone to the damn Sadie Hawkins. He wished he could just go back to the closet.

When he transferred to Dalton a few months after that fateful night, it became easier. He wasn't bullied, not a vicious word was directed at him. People liked him and he liked them, but he became more reserved than he had already been. He didn't want to get too close to others. He managed to create a façade for himself, pretending to be comfortable with the way he was. The truth was, however, that the only thing that gave him confidence, the only thing that really did make him okay with himself, was performing. The stage and music, they gave him the light in his eyes.

It would have helped to have someone to tell him over and over again how exceptional he was. He had his parents, who loved him unconditionally, no matter what. There were times he didn't see them for a week, but deep down he always knew they were there for him. And even though Blaine rarely saw him anymore and he could be such a pain in the butt, so was Cooper. Blaine's friends from the Warblers were fun, and he had some amazing memories from their trips to sectionals and regionals, and the Warbler parties. But they were there when everything was alright; the moment something went wrong, Blaine was all alone again. They just filled up the space, drowned out the silence. Not one of them truly _cared_.

For a split second Blaine thought his luck might be changing. When he found out the cocky handsome transfer boy was gay, he started picturing the two of them together, what it would be like to have someone who _understood_. He imagined they had to have so much in common.

But they didn't. Sebastian, having grown up in San Francisco, had never tasted the bitter flavour of being bullied. He'd been called a _fag_ a couple of times, but never cared enough to dwell upon it. His arrogant demeanour seemed to intimidate the bullies in Ohio enough for them to stay away.

And soon Blaine realized that being gay and being a Warbler were probably the only things he and Sebastian had in common, and moved on. It wasn't as difficult as he'd feared.

Around that time Blaine started to looking forward to going to college more and more impatiently. He was hoping for a better, fresh start.

* * *

Blaine was leaving the dance studio at the end of a long line of exhausted students, dragging his feet. His muscles screamed at him with every motion, no matter how tiny it was. It was worse than any PE class he'd ever attended. He wished only for a long, steamy shower and his soft bed.

He stopped in the hallway for a second to take a look at his reflection in the glass of the door. His hair was a complete mess. He sighed.

The rest of the class had already disappeared behind a corner of the hallway, and the sounds of footsteps mixed with chatter were slowly dying out.

Then he heard it. Someone was playing a piano in one of the classrooms nearby.

He located the room, but before he reached the door, a voice came ringing from inside.

_I dreamed a dream in time gone by…_

The singer's voice gave him goose bumps. It was so unique, so clear and strong, and perfect. He'd never heard a voice like that before.

Blaine motioned slowly to the door, walking as if he was approaching a fretful cat he wanted to catch. He didn't want to disturb the singer, he didn't want the song to end.

The glass in the door revealed to him a room with walls covered in dark gray wallpaper and a grand piano situated in the middle. There was only one person inside, sitting at the piano, playing and singing. A strikingly familiar person. The perfectly arranged hair, the upturned nose, the white dress shirt, the black vest and the seemingly carelessly worn beige silk scarf…

But _the voice_-

He stood there, mesmerized, soaking up each note that left Kurt's mouth, each movement of his fingers on the keyboard, each expression that crossed his face.

When the last notes had died out, Kurt lingered a moment with his fingers still pressing the keys and his eyes fixed on the sheet music. A small smile arched his lips.

Then he turned on the stool, facing the door. His eyes fell on Blaine and his expression became a mixture of surprise and uneasiness. It seemed he didn't like being snuck upon.

Blaine flushed with embarrassment. He pushed the door open, feeling awkward, but not wanting to look like a stalker.

'Sorry I eavesdropped,' he said with a grimace. 'I didn't mean to, I was just passing when you started singing. I didn't want to interrupt your rehearsal-'

'It's okay. I wasn't rehearsing. I just like staying here sometimes and playing, and singing a little.'

Kurt stood up and began to fumble through his folder of sheet music. He was trying not to seem uneasy with having been eavesdropped on. Performing on a stage with hundreds of people in the audience didn't freak him out as much as having only one listener or a handful of them in front of him.

'Anyway,' said Blaine, as an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence, 'that was amazing. Wow, your voice is...'

'Like a girl's, I know,' interrupted Kurt.

'No, that's not what I wanted to say. It's just… incredible.'

Even though Kurt had heard that particular word in reference to his voice many times before, it spread a warmth from his chest and through the rest of his body, until the tips of his fingers and toes tingled pleasantly.

'Well, thank you.' He shot Blaine a sheepish smile.

'You're welcome.' Blaine shifted, realizing Kurt probably wanted to be left alone. 'Um, I guess I should be going. See you around.'

And he left, although the last thing he wanted to do was go out of that dark classroom and away from the boy at the piano.

* * *

**A/N:** So here we go, Chapter 2. I'll try to update every week, and I'm covered for the next few weeks (Chapter 6 is pretty much half done).


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Kurt giggled to himself, too quiet for Rachel to hear. He was dishing out their dinner, and Rachel had demanded to eat it on the living room sofa. She claimed her muscles ached too badly for her to sit on one of the bar stools at the counter. Kurt's jollity had nothing to do with his friend's suffering; he was simply amused by how well he could predict the drastic change in her mood.

Because, as he had foreseen during their lunch break, Rachel's enthusiasm got curbed by the formidable Cassandra July. After Rachel's first Dance class, it turned out there was only one person in the entire group that could dance at all – at least according to Ms July. And that person was certainly not Rachel.

Having used up a dozen tissues and been comforted patiently by Kurt, Rachel decided not to give up just yet – right after coming home from NYADA, she had been half certain she'd quit and go back to Lima to find a job at a WalMart. When he finally managed to convince her that _everyone_ struggles in the NYADA Dance studio, he went to the kitchen to prepare dinner, listening to Rachel rant about her determination and how she "will show that July woman who rules this place… no offence, Kurtie."

So he was giggling over the spaghetti napoli he had cooked for dinner. This was the part of their friendship he missed the most the previous year – he had got enough of the tears and Drama Queen Rachel through their never-ending phone calls. Now, finally, he remembered what they were like when the drama was gone. He really did miss that.

Kurt brought their plates out to the living room and they dug into their pasta.

'So, what about other people in your classes? Anyone you feel threatened by?,' he asked, half-jokingly.

'Hey!' She punched him lightly on the arm. 'Well, it's hard to say for now. It's not like everyone had a solo at the start. So I don't really know. They could all be better than me.'

She said that last sentence, intending it as a joke, but then she made a panicked face.

'What if they are?! Oh my God, what if they are, Kurt?!'

He raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed, trying not to overreact, while he repeated himself for the twentieth time this afternoon.

'Rachel, how many times do I have to tell you, they cannot _all_ be better than you. It's impossible, and you know it.'

Her lips puckered for a second.

'Yeah, I guess I do.' She cheered up a little. 'Okay, no more moping.'

'I've already heard that today.'

They were chewing for a few minutes in silence, until Rachel spoke again.

'Oh, and there's this one guy, he's totally cute, and I'm thinking maybe I should try and get him. You know, I've moved on from Finn, and I guess I could find someone at NYADA, to match up to me with their talent, and to be part of my new start in New York.'

Kurt eyed her skeptically.

'Um- Rache, you were listening to me, when I was telling you that more than half of the guys at NYADA are gay, right?'

'Yeah, so what? It's not like _all_ of them are. There's the remaining forty percent that plays for my team.'

'And how exactly can you be sure the one you set your eyes on does?,' he asked, his eyebrows raised quizzically.

Rachel crossed her arms on her chest.

'I have a gaydar, too, just so you know.'

He laughed at her indignant pose.

'Okay, okay, let's _assume_ you are right and he's straight. Continue talking about this cutie of yours.'

She immediately unfolded her arms, shifting her position and leaning forwards.

'Right, so he's name is Blaine and he-'

'Wha- What did you just say?'

Rachel fixed a startled gaze on his face.

'I said he's name's Blaine. What's so surprising about it?'

Kurt swallowed his mouthful of spaghetti.

'Well, does this Blaine guy have dark hair with a bit too much gel in it?'

It was Rachel's turn to be astonished.

'Are you psychic or something and I don't know about it?'

He sent her an _are-you-serious_ kind of look, while trying to arrange what he really knew about Blaine, apart from the fact that he used hair gel in gigantic quantities. He knew Blaine was from Ohio, from a town just outside Lima. He knew Blaine was cute and had beautiful hazel eyes. He knew there was a sense of understanding between them. He knew Blaine liked Kurt's voice. Nothing more.

'No, I just bumped into him this morning and showed him how to get to his class.' He shrugged.

'Oh. So what does your gaydar say? Is he gay or not?'

The memories from earlier seemed to have made him forget what they were talking about in the first place.

'What? Um-' He considered it for a few seconds; the way Blaine moved, the way he spoke, the way he looked at him… 'Yup, he's gay.'

Rachel's jaw dropped.

'I don't believe you!'

'Well, you have every right to, but I wouldn't try to make a pass at him, if I were you.' Kurt picked up their plates, and directed his steps to the kitchen.

'Oh God, you want to do it yourself! You want to make a pass at him!' She jumped up, and grimaced when her muscles reminded her of her pains.

Kurt stalled for a moment, thinking about what she'd just said. Did he really want to do that? He didn't know the answer himself. Rachel didn't notice his hesitation, squeezing her eyes shut in pain.

'No, Rache, don't be ridiculous,' he replied finally. 'I don't even know him.'

'Okay, but I still know better. Oh, and let's find out if he's gay.'

'And how exactly do you want to do it? Walk up to him in a hallway and ask? Or maybe you want to break into his dorm and hack into his computer to see if he has gay porn on it?,' Kurt scoffed.

Rachel frowned.

'No, of course not. I'll come up with something, don't you worry. And when we know, the one who was wrong buys the other a treat. Let's say, some baked goodness. Deal?'

'Deal,' said Kurt, rolling his eyes. 'But what if he's bi?'

'Then it's a tie and we simply go out for cakes.'

* * *

It took two days for Rachel to find a way of establishing beyond a shadow of doubt whether Blaine was gay or not. Early on Wednesday afternoon she caught up with Kurt in the NYADA hallways to share her idea.

'I got it!', she chirruped excitedly, gripping him by his forearm.

'You got what exactly, may I ask?'

'A way to find out if Blaine's gay!' Her whisper was a little too audible, so Kurt shushed her.

'What? It's not like I'm yelling.'

'Fine. So what did you come up with?'

A wide grin split her face.

'Alright. Some freshmen are having a party at the dorms on Saturday, you know, to get to know each other better-'

'That is, to drink until they pass out together or throw up all over one another.'

'Whatever. They're having that party and I thought I'd go and take you with me as my plus one, and once Blaine's drunk – oh, he lives in the dorms, by the way – we can see which team he plays for.'

Her grin managed to become even broader.

'How, again? How do you want to see that?'

'Well- Most people, when they're drunk, they become less inhibited and they start hitting on people, or groping them, or something-'

Kurt was barely able to stop himself from laughing out loud.

'Yeah, because you have so much experience with drunk people and parties, Rachel Berry.'

'Okay, go on mocking me.' She pouted.

'Fine, we'll go to that damn party.' He rolled his eyes. 'Under one condition: you will not try and force yourself on Blaine. Sober or otherwise. Either of you.'

Rachel's mood lifted, and her enthusiasm returned with full force.

'Great! I won't force myself onto him.' She paused. 'But you have to promise me the same. You won't hit on Blaine at the party.'

'Okay, I won't. But I'm going now. And it's not like I wanted to hit on him anyway.'

But deep down, he wasn't truly convinced by his own words.

* * *

Living in the dorms turned out to be terribly uncomfortable for Blaine, just as he had feared. He and Trent talked to each other as little as possible, usually exchanging hellos and asking and answering petty questions. There were also moments, when Trent made random remarks, only deepening Blaine's uneasiness around him.

'A little too much gel today, Blaine, don't you think?,' he said snippily on Thursday morning. 'I guess you'll soon be broke if you go on using a ton a day.'

Hair jokes were his favourite. They were also the ones that pissed off Blaine the most.

Until Friday morning, when Trent emerged out of their shared bathroom – in nothing but a towel tied round his hips – to find Blaine tying his bow-tie in front of the tall mirror by his wardrobe.

'Stop staring, that bow-tie's faggy enough.'

Blaine's heart dropped, his hands froze by his neck. He wasn't staring, his look wandered automatically towards the opening door. He'd already seen Trent half-naked, and assumed there was not much to ogle.

The initial shock wore off in a moment, during which Trent returned to the bathroom. Blaine didn't manage to say anything.

He only grabbed his bag and left the room.

* * *

Blaine's thoughts were still racing, when he entered NYADA.

This was New York. _New York_. He was supposed to be safe here. This was the whole point of leaving Ohio! Getting out of that hateful environment. Away from the people who dropped words like _faggy_ like it didn't matter, like it couldn't hurt anyone. To a place where he could be himself, without explanations, without apologies, without the fear of getting beaten up again. To a place where he could really start hoping for a better future.

Why couldn't it just be the way he wished, just this once?

* * *

'Hurry up, Kurt, we're going to be fashionably late as it is!,' came Rachel's voice from outside of the bathroom door.

Kurt sprayed his hair a little bit more, to make sure it wouldn't fall apart after half an hour.

'Relax, Rache, I'm coming.'

He looked critically at his reflection once more, taking in the skinny black jeans, red Marc Jacobs shirt and black tie (faux-sloppily left a little loose). This would do.

'_Finally_!'

Rachel was already waiting for him by the door, fully dressed and with her purse in her hands. She was wearing a frilly black skirt with a loose-fitting red knitwear blouse and a black jacket. Kurt started regretting they'd decided to colour-coordinate. They looked like a couple. A very well dressed couple nonetheless

'Um- You look great, Rache,' he said.

'You too.' She smiled at him. 'But you don't need to get them to like you, you're the star.'

'Rachel,' he groaned.

* * *

When they reached the dorms, the building was buzzing with music and teeming with people. It wasn't necessary to know where the party was supposed to take place, the sounds could lead a blind man to the right spot.

'You said it was a freshmen party, right?, asked Kurt warily, when they entered a crowded corridor.

'Um- Yeah, I guess I did.'

'There's probably more people than in the whole of NYADA, if you haven't noticed.'

'Well, it wasn't freshmen- or NYADA-exclusive I suppose. People brought dates.'

Kurt covered his face with his hand.

'Why did I even agree to this?,' he muttered.

'Because we have a mission, don't forget about it!'

Rachel was getting impatient. There was no point in resisting entering the crowd at this point; any resistance would be futile. Rachel usually got what she wanted.

'Okay, let's do it.' He grabbed her hand and dragged her forwards. Then he stopped, turning to face her. 'Just don't embarrass me, young lady.'

* * *

Blaine had no intention of going to the much talked about freshmen party. All he wanted to do on Saturday night was crawling up in his bed with a book and enjoying having his room to himself (as Trent had announced, there was 'no way in hell for him not to go.') However, when Saturday night came, it became clear no one in the building could skip the party; peace and quiet were particularly hard to come by.

Not five minutes after Trent left, and Blaine had just managed to crack open his book, when someone downstairs turned up the music so loud it drowned the sounds coming from Blaine's headphones. He groaned, putting a pillow over his head. It didn't help in the slightest. He hoped maybe they'd turn the volume down a little, so the walls would stop vibrating. The beat made the building collapsing an actual threat.

Ten minutes passed with Blaine lying idly on his bed. There was no chance of getting a peaceful night now.

There was also no point in sitting all alone in his room, when there was booze pouring in cascades and people groping each other in the dark right outside the door. Not that he expected to be groped or to grope himself. But booze could maybe make him chill out.

He couldn't know that for sure, though. He had never tasted alcohol before.

* * *

Kurt didn't feel comfortable at all. The massive crowd of already tipsy people, the lack of proper lighting, brushing his body against strangers in the cramped corridors – he really did not like parties. Especially those organized in student dormitories.

He almost tripped on a beer keg, and _almost _(thankfully) spilled his vodka tonic all over his shirt.

'Fuck,' he muttered under his breath.

Rachel had left him alone in the crowded building, in an attempt to find Blaine, while Kurt tried to somehow get back to the common room at the end of the second floor hallway, where the party originated from. It was also were the booze was, and he needed another drink to survive in that zoo.

He had to pick his way carefully around lonely drunks and a bit overly affectionate couples, eating each other's faces off in the middle of corridors. At one point he had to squeeze himself between a group of giggling girls and the wall; unfortunately, someone didn't lock their door properly, and when he was moving past it, he practically fell into a room, catching a glimpse of a couple _in flagrante_. He fled the room in haste, shaking his head to remove the picture from his mind and praying they didn't notice him.

Finally reaching the common room, Kurt poured himself another drink and settled in a corner, out of sight, to watch others get drunk and wait for Rachel to come back. She had to at some point.

* * *

Blaine emerged out of his room into the dim-lit hallway of the third storey, which was empty, apart from a couple scurrying to one of the rooms and feeling each other up on the way. He sighed. He'd already made up his mind about going downstairs, but having the picture of couples glued together forced in his face all night wasn't the height of his happiness. It reminded him he didn't have anyone to glue himself to, and that it would probably be long until that happens, if it ever does.

He pushed his way through the packed corridors, heading for the common room. Didn't they say the party was supposed to be there?

'Blaine!'

A voice tore through the deafening music somewhere to his right. He looked around, startled. Was someone calling him, or was there another Blaine? Or maybe he was imagining things.

But, no, apparently, someone was talking to him. That obnoxious chatterbox from some of his classes. What was her name? Rachel, was it? Rachel Barry? Berry? Whatever. What did she want from him?

'Hi?' It sounded like a question.

'Hi, I'm so glad you're here! I thought there'd be more people I know! Come on, let's get you a drink!'

She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him after her.

'Okay,' he muttered, disoriented, letting her drag him on.

* * *

Kurt took another sip from his plastic cup, thoroughly bored. Thankfully, no one noticed him in his corner by the counter on which he rested his elbow. He glanced at his watch; it was only ten, and he'd already had enough.

A few sips later, Rachel rushed into the room, dragging a confused Blaine behind her. She cast her eyes around the room, peering in the semi-darkness. She finally caught sight of Kurt, gracefully propped on the counter.

'Kurt!,' she called, but her voice drowned almost completely in the noise.

He raised his cup in greeting, deepening Blaine's bewilderment.

'You two know each other?,' asked Blaine, when they reached Kurt, trying to roar the music down.

'Hello to you too, Blaine,' said Kurt, smiling. 'Yes, she's the reason I'm here. She likes dragging people along, as I'm sure you've noticed.'

Blaine laughed.

'Yeah, I did.'

He suddenly felt awkward. It was an entirely unfamiliar situation for Blaine; not just being at a party – one with booze – but talking to someone he_ liked_. At a party. A party with booze.

'I guess I'm gonna get myself that drink,' he mumbled, heading to a beer keg placed on the counter, hoping he wouldn't make a fool out of himself, if it turns out to be too difficult for him to pour the beverage properly into the cup he took from a high stack next to the beverages.

Luckily for him, Kurt and Rachel engaged in a heated conversation, filled with vigorous gesticulation, mostly on her part, and they weren't paying any attention to him. He managed to fill his cup (half with foam), and returned to them.

The moment Rachel saw him – after a glare was sent her way by Kurt – she stopped whipping her hands around and smiled sweetly at Blaine. Were they talking about _him_? Did he have something on his face?

He took a sip of his beer to mask his uneasiness. It was bitter, but quite tasty, in its own peculiar way.

'So, Blaine, how do you like NYADA?' Kurt took it upon himself to re-start the conversation.

After a while of talking to them, Blaine realized that Rachel wasn't nearly as obnoxious as he had assumed her to be. Certainly, she was a little self-centered and egotistical, but from what he observed, she and Kurt were great friends, and it was hard for him to believe that someone like Kurt would be friends with a complete bitch.

Blaine was also quite proud of himself, because he managed not to make a fool out of himself in front of Kurt. And Kurt seemed positively impressed when Blaine mentioned having been a soloist in the Warblers. New Directions never went against the Dalton show choir in a competition, but both of the McKinley alumni had heard a lot of praise about it.

So the conversation continued, going from high schools and glee clubs, through Broadway shows and who would be the best Rum-Tum-Tugger, all the way back to NYADA and the teachers. They refilled their cups until the alcohol made Rachel's voice even more piercing than usually, Kurt to feel slightly drowsy, and Blaine's knees to wobble a bit.

And when the three of them had admitted to themselves they were tipsy, someone in the centre of the room made a suggestion.

'Let's spin the bottle!'

A girl, who Kurt had seen around NYADA, but never officially met, who had spent the previous couple of hours hanging from her boyfriend's arm, detached herself from her other half, apparently offended about something. She beckoned to everyone gathered in the common room.

'No fucking way,' muttered Kurt into his drink.

He knew it as soon as the girl started saying _spin_, that Rachel was going to use the situation. Her face lit up, and she jumped up, nearly tripping when she landed.

'Oh, let's go, guys!' She glared at Kurt knowingly.

He just shook his head.

'You go on.' This was going to be a disaster. Drunk Rachel wasn't her best look.

Unfortunately, Kurt hadn't expected her to understand _you_ as a plural pronoun. Which she did, and once more gripping Blaine's arm firmly, she dragged him to the spot where the others were settling on the floor with an empty vodka bottle.

Kurt stayed in his corner, but shifted to have the best possible view on the spin-the-bottle group. And so the fun began. The people – complete strangers, acquaintances and best friends mixed into one big crowd of sloshed youth – making out with one another to the amusement of the rest. It was all pretty boring and depressing for Kurt at the same time. Until Blaine's turn came and he reached for the bottle.

And it spun. And spun. And spun a little more slowly.

And stopped, with its neck pointed directly at Rachel.

Rachel's astonished gaze drifted around the room in search of Kurt. When it finally found him, he sent her a look that said _you-knew-it-could-happen-now-go-for-it-if-you-have-to_.

So she giggled nervously, as Blaine extended his hand to her to pull her closer. He seemed to be having fun. _Oops_. Was Kurt wrong then?

And he was watching them, how their lips met for a few seconds. He couldn't see much more in the dim light; he felt like he'd already seen too much. Was it because his best friend was making out with a guy he'd deemed to be gay? Or was it because he wanted to be in her shoes?

A wave of relief washed over Kurt the moment Blaine and Rachel's lips parted for good, and they fell back to their places, her with a goofy smile plastered on her face. She waved at Kurt, trying to get his attention.

'He's so not gay,' she mouthed, when he looked over at her.

'Oh, yes, he is,' he mouthed back.

She frowned in response, but the expression was soon replaced by a mischievous smile.

'You have some stuff for karaoke here, don't you?,' she shouted to some of the people in the spin-the-bottle crowd.

They nodded.

'Let's sing!' She jumped up to her feet. 'Blaine, do you wanna sing first?'

She giggled. Kurt rolled his eyes. Did she want to prove Blaine was straight by his choice of song?

Apparently, alcohol lowered Blaine's inhibitions enough for him to agree to sing first. After a moment's bustle around the communal TV set, Blaine took over the improvised stage with a microphone in his hand, and the karaoke music replaced the dance stuff that had been blaring from the speakers all night.

The first few notes made Kurt's jaw drop, and the next few made him smile smugly at Rachel, whose bewilderment didn't seem to be as easy to wipe away.

And then, Blaine started singing.

_This was never the way I planned, not my intention…_

But soon Kurt didn't care that Blaine was singing a Katy Perry song, a song that – all things considered – said quite clearly that he was gay. Soon the only thing that mattered was that he could listen to his voice.

And oh, what a voice it was.

* * *

**A/N:** So, Chapter 3. Hope it's not tragically bad.

And I just wanted to thank every single person who's followed or favourited, or reviewed, I'm really grateful and I wasn't seriously expecting people to like this... So the more I'm glad there are people who do :) Thanks a lot :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The building seemed awfully quiet, as compared to the noise that had been filling it until less than an hour earlier. The common room was empty, apart from the three people huddled on the two worn out fake-leather sofas. Rachel drifted off to sleep with her feet in Kurt's lap. Blaine was sitting on the other sofa, with his elbow on the armrest and his chin cupped in his palm. They were talking quietly, not to wake Rachel up.

'You know, the New Directions are sort of like extended family,' Kurt was saying. 'We keep in touch, more or less. We meet when we're back in Lima for holidays, we call each other for birthdays and such.'

'That's nice, we never were that close in the Warblers.'

'Yeah, but it's all the drama that brought us together, you know? Well, and Finn, who was kind of our male lead, he actually is my family, since my dad and his mom got hitched.'

'Really?' That's so cool.'

'We were best men at the wedding, and Glee did the music, that was amazing.' Kurt smiled a little at the memory. 'And then Rachel and Finn used to be an item – and if you ask me, she's still not over him, though she pretends to be – so we're a bit like family, too. We definitely act like siblings sometimes. And we live together now. And the rest of the guys, I guess switching boyfriends and girlfriends within Glee made the bond stronger or something. There was so much drama, ugh.'

'Well, I bet it was more entertaining than the Warblers. I suppose lack of ovaries tends to render life uninteresting.'

They laughed in unison.

'So true. You couldn't have had the teen pregnancy drama, and the love triangles drama, and the teen lesbians drama. Teen gays drama is nothing in comparison, I'm sure of that.'

'Yeah, we had that last one. The rest, not so much.' He paused. 'You really had a pregnant girl in Glee?'

'That's not the best part: she went into labour in the middle of regionals.'

'For real?'

'Well, right after we got off stage, but in the middle of the competition. And then Rachel's birth mom adopted the baby. Again, family.'

'Birth mom?'

Kurt paused for a second.

'Um, since we're dishing, I guess I can tell you. Rachel has two dads. As in two gay dads. They were the first gays I've ever met, actually, apart from myself. And Shelby was their surrogate. Oh, and she used to coach Vocal Adrenaline.'

'What? Rachel's mom coached Vocal Adrenaline? _The_ Vocal Adrenaline, the three-time national show choir champions?'

'The very same.'

'This is so amazing. I wish I went to McKinley and not lame Dalton with the blazers and all that.'

Kurt's face turned serious.

'It wasn't all rainbows and unicorns, you know.' His voice became small, uncertain and uneasy.

'I know.' A moment passed in complete silence. 'I went to a public school before I transferred to Dalton halfway through my freshman year.' Blaine's voice matched Kurt's. Suddenly they went from chit-chat and gossip to the important stuff. 'Me and a friend of mine, we went to a Sadie Hawkins dance once… together. The only two out gays in the school. Well, that didn't turn out the way we wanted it to.'

Kurt nodded in understanding.

'Yeah, I guess high school dances aren't the happiest of events for gay youth.' A bitter laugh escaped his lips. 'When I went to my junior prom, I didn't have a date, so I tagged along with a group of friends that didn't have partners either, but, um- You know, I'm pretty obvious anyway. Well, obvious enough for some people from my school to vote me Prom Queen in a secret ballot.' He grimaced. 'And that was far from being my worst high school experience,' he added in a slightly trembling, quiet voice.

Kurt's hand unconsciously went up to the vertical line on his lower lip, tracing it with shaky fingers. It didn't slip Blaine's attention.

There was so much they had in common, both the good things, and the bad.

'So,' started Kurt, 'you never got to tell me about the teen gays drama at Dalton.'

'There's not much to tell, really.'

'Oh, come on.'

'Okay… So, when I was a junior, there was this guy who transferred from San Francisco. He was also a junior.'

'Oo la la, continue.' Kurt was smiling again.

'His name was Sebastian. All the guys in the Warblers thought we should get together, because we were the only single gays in Dalton at the time. But it didn't work out. I kinda wanted it to, you know, but then… let's just say that he turned out to be an insensitive jerk.'

'Ouch.'

'Yeah,' Blaine sighed. 'But I guess I'm happy it never worked out.'

The sound of steps in the corridor interrupted their conversation. A moment later a silhouette appeared in the door.

'Oh, that's you, roomie,' came a drunken voice from the doorway.

Blaine peered in the semi-darkness, trying to check if it really was Trent.

'Already hitting on the biggest fag in the school, huh?' He laughed obnoxiously.

Blaine was seething. Kurt turned scarlet. Rachel continued to sleep, oblivious to the surroundings.

'Can't you just go?', Blaine said through clenched teeth. He was so close to losing it.

'Why, so you could make out? Oh, why do you have a girl with you? Wouldn't you prefer another guy for a threesome? You're gonna have to forgive _me_, _I_ don't swing that way.' He made a disgusted face.

Blaine was already standing up, ready to throw a punch in Trent's face. Kurt grabbed his arm, shaking his head at him. _It's not a good idea_.

Trent chuckled, took a bottle of vodka from the counter and left, still visibly amused.

Silence pervaded for a moment.

'_That's_ your roommate?,' asked Kurt. 'Is he always… like that?'

'You mean homophobic? No, not always. But not only when he's drunk, yes.' He covered his face with his hands.

'He's a piece of shit, don't get upset about him, he's not worth it,' said Kurt quietly, patting Blaine on the shoulder reassuringly. But he knew it wouldn't help at all. Something had to be done.

'I'll sort something out. To make him stop with this bullshit, I mean.' It was as if he was reading Kurt's mind. He raised his gaze at Kurt. 'It's good to have someone to talk to.'

Kurt smiled at him sheepishly.

'Yeah, it is.'

* * *

By five a.m. Blaine was in his bed, trying to ignore the massive snoring coming from the opposite side of the room, as well as its originator and his words from earlier.

He was trying to focus on the good parts of the last few hours.

He now had someone he could trust; someone who he knew would understand him.

And he now had a friend in some of his classes, who could be terribly irritating, but deep down had a kind heart.

He just had to stop himself every time his thoughts wandered to Trent and the _f word_. He didn't want to spoil his joy, it was too damn fleeting.

It was almost noon, when the scent of coffee reached Kurt's nose. He groaned and turned in his bed. It took him a second to remember that it was Sunday, and he didn't have to get up right away.

Finally, fifteen minutes later, he entered the kitchen, greeted by a chipper Rachel.

'Good morning,' she said, passing him a mug of steaming coffee.

'Thanks.' He took a sip. 'Why the good mood?'

'We had fun yesterday, didn't we?'

Kurt scrutinized her with his eyes, as she was putting bread into the toaster for him.

'Yes, we did. But you lost our little wager.'

She turned from the toaster to look at him.

'True, but… Well, I guess I can suffer buying you a whole cheesecake, if that means you're happy.'

He raised his eyebrows.

'What exactly are you talking about?'

Rachel seemed surprised he didn't get her drift.

'Um- You and Blaine, dummy?'

'Me and Blaine, what? There is no "me and Blaine".'

'Oh.' More bewilderment. 'Guess I can't see through you after all.'

'Rache.' Kurt sighed. 'It's not that I _don't_ like him. I do like him. But, you know, it's not like I'm going to fling myself on a guy just because he's gay. I've already done something similar, and I don't want to make the same mistake twice.'

A moment passed in silence.

'So… you're saying Chandler was a mistake?.' Rachel asked in a small voice.

Kurt rubbed his jaw line, considering his answer.

'Okay, not exactly. I needed that then. You know, it did boost my self-esteem a little. But I never really… I could never really picture us growing old together. And I want that. I want to be able to close my eyes and see myself fifty years from now, in a rocking chair, with gray hair and the person I love by my side. I never could with Chandler. I don't know why.'

'And Blaine?'

'Gosh, Rachel, I've known the guy less than a week. Yes, he's cute. And yes, talking to him felt real nice, but it doesn't mean I'm already planning a wedding!'

The bread jumped inside the toaster. Rachel dished it out and grabbed a jar of strawberry jelly that was sitting on the counter.

'Okay, so I'm officially out of this.' She put Kurt's breakfast in front of him. 'I'm going to sit by, watching how you two get together.'

Kurt opened his mouth to tell her off, but she'd already fled into her room. He could swear she was giggling on the way.

* * *

Rachel fulfilled her side of the wager by buying Kurt a ridiculously large piece of cheesecake in a coffee shop on 4th Avenue. He was sitting with his back to the door, gorging on his cake, and listening to Rachel's account of her day at NYADA.

But suddenly, she fell silent. Her eyes bulged, and she whipped her hand up to put it in front of her face.

'Oh my God, Kurt, don't turn. Don't look behind you. Just don't.'

He swallowed his mouthful of cheesecake.

'What? What is it again, Rachel?'

'Nothing. It's just that- YOUR. EX. IS. HERE.'

'What?'

He looked around, trying to establish who she was referring to. And then he noticed him. There was Chandler, standing in the middle of the café, with a cup of coffee in his hand, searching the room for an empty table. They were all taken.

Kurt was suddenly reminded that he had an ex-boyfriend. One he'd planned to avoid in New York. Shit. Probably going to a coffee shop this close to Parsons was not a good idea after all. Next time he'll make sure to be at least a dozen blocks from Chandler's school. Just to be on the safe side.

Before he could turn back around, Chandler's eyes fell on him and his wide-eyed friend. His lips stretched into a smile, when he started towards them in a springy step.

'Oh my, who do my eyes see?,' he crooned, approaching them. 'Kurt Hummel, as I live and breathe.'

Kurt put on his most pleasant smile and faced his ex-boyfriend.

'Chandler. Wow, New York seems to be small after all.' _Just when I decided to avoid you_.

'Yes, it does! What a happy coincidence!' Chandler eyed the empty chair at their table. 'May I?'

Rachel was shaking her head infinitesimally, trying to get Kurt to answer in the negative. But his manners took the best of him.

'Yeah… sure.'

He sent her a scolding look. Rachel made an angry face, just to replace it with an innocent and pleasant expression a second later, turning to Chandler.

'So, Chandler,' she started. 'How's Parsons?'

'It's fine, thank you, Rachel. But I'm still getting accustomed I suppose. Oh, wait, how's NYADA?! I almost forgot you finally got in this year!'

Rachel pursed her lips before answering.

'Oh, it's fine, thank you. I was _so sorry_ to hear NYU rejected you again.' She shot him the most impeccant smile she could muster.

She and Chandler never got along very well; Rachel hated how patronizing he sometimes got, or how affected he usually was. Kurt's mannerisms were an entirely different matter; they were just a part of who he was, there was nothing rehearsed or staged about them. But to Rachel, Chandler's demeanour had always made the impression of being studied from start to finish.

The conversation continued with Kurt mostly staying out of it, chewing his cheesecake and sipping his coffee very, _very_ slowly, and Rachel and Chandler taunting each other with snippy comments.

'Oh, and how's your step-brother, Kurt?', asked Chandler, trying to get away from Rachel's acerbity. 'Wasn't he leaving for somewhere in the summer?'

'Yes, Afghanistan. He's in an supply unit. In the Army, I mean.'

'Well, Chandler, you could have asked _me_ about Finn,' said Rachel sweetly. 'Let Kurt eat his cake.'

Kurt groaned internally. This was worse than he'd imagined it could be. His plan for the future was now mostly to keep Rachel and Chandler as far away from each other as possible.

'Um- I got to run, guys, so… Enjoy your cheesecake, Kurt.' Chandler flashed him his signature smile. 'Rachel. Well, see you sometime.'

When the glass door in the far end of the coffee shop closed behind Chandler, Kurt could finally make a comment on the situation. It was very short.

'_Rachel_.'

* * *

Blaine couldn't shake the feeling that the party triggered Trent's homophobia. Despite having been intoxicated, he seemed to remember exactly what he had said, and – most importantly – apparently saw nothing inappropriate in his words. To the contrary, he was now fonder of the gay insults than of the hair jokes.

And the former cut so much deeper than the latter.

Blaine was bottling up all his rage, attempting to find a solution to his situation. In the meantime, he spent most of his time out of the dorm, staying late at NYADA and taking walks around Central Park. Days passed with Blaine coming home just out of necessity – he did like the streets of New York, but not enough to make them his bedroom.

When he entered his room on a mid-September Friday afternoon, earlier than he usually did, Trent greeted him with a dose of his regular innate jokes.

'Oh, the fag's no longer out,' he sneered. 'Didn't get a cock to suck this time?'

That was the last straw. The rage that had been simmering within Blaine for a week finally boiled over.

'What the fuck is your problem with me?!' He grabbed Trent's shirt with his right hand, his left ready to throw a punch.

'I don't have problem with _you_, I have a problem with all of you _fags_.'

Blaine's whole body shook with fury. He collected himself enough to respond.

'Then you have a problem with me. You have to lose that hateful crap, or I can't vouch for myself.'

'And what would you do to me, cissy? Fuck me in the ass? Suck my dick? Because that tiny little fist- I probably wouldn't even _feel_ it.'

Blaine was breathing heavily, desperately trying to keep cool. But it had been too much. And it would go on, for as long as he'd let it. He couldn't let it. He had to do _something_.

'Try me.'

And his dexterous fist cut the air with a swish, and landed heavily on Trent's right cheek.

Blaine let go of him, and Trent fell back to his bed, flabbergasted, gasping and touching his face in astonishment.

Blaine rubbed his knuckles. The only thing he usually punched was a punchbag, but this gave him a sense of power. He closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the control he had over his bully. This one time he stood up to someone who was taunting him.

'I take it you did feel my tiny little fist after all,' he said in a matter-of-fact tone. 'And I swear, if you don't cut the crap, you will feel it again.'

If there was a response, he didn't hear it, he was already out the door.

* * *

He wasn't thinking. His legs carried him without any cooperation with his brain; one foot in front of the other, somehow manoeuvering out of other people's way, and away from lanterns and trash cans. His eyes were looking, but not seeing. His ears were filled with a continuous buzzing, and distant noises of New York streets.

He wasn't thinking. He knew what he'd just done, and wanted to push it out of his consciousness.

He didn't regret it. There was no hint of guilt or remorse. He never supported violence; he only started boxing to be able to defend himself when circumstances pushed him to.

It wasn't to punch the verbally abusive.

He did not feel guilty. Just… disturbed. He felt like he hadn't known himself well enough.

Before he knew it, Blaine reached Central Park. It was already getting dark, and the park was clearing out. He sat on a bench near the Pond, breathing deeply. The only thing he wanted was to get himself together before the inevitable return to the dorm. That punch had to be the only one he landed on anything else than a punchbag.

And then he was fumbling in his pocket for his phone. His finger hovered for a second over the number on the screen. But he shouldn't overthink this. He needed to talk to someone.

Someone who understood.

One tap. Three signals.

'Hello?'

'Kurt? It's Blaine'.

'Oh, hi! What is it, Blaine?'

'Um- you know my roommate?'

'Yeah, what's happened? Is he giving you grief again? How can I help?'

'He was, but- um-'

'What? What did he do?'

Blaine paused for a second. Kurt was waiting on the other side of the line, aware Blaine needed to be ready to tell him.

'He didn't really do anything. Anything out of the ordinary. But I… I kind of punched him.' He mumbled the last few words.

'Pardon? Could you repeat that?'

'I punched him.' The words still sounded unreal to him.

'But he didn't… assault you?'

'No. I _assaulted_ him.'

'He provoked you, though, didn't he? Like at the party?'

'Yeah, he did. Worse, actually.'

'So don't beat yourself up. Um- No pun intended. You stood up for yourself. That's good. You can't let people trash you without consequences. Courage, Blaine, courage.'

Blaine inhaled a lungful of air. His peace of mind was coming back.

'Thanks, Kurt.'

'Anytime.'

* * *

**A/N:**So, Chapter 4... Hope there was anybody who enjoyed it. I'd love some feedback, so reviews are very welcome :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Blaine didn't go back to his dorm until shortly before midnight. He'd spent the evening wandering around Manhattan, feeling much lighter after his conversation with Kurt. Still, he dreaded returning to his room, not knowing what to expect from Trent.

He slipped into the dark room, and traced his way with his hands, his eyes unadjusted to the lack of light. Having rummaged out his PJs, Blaine went to the bathroom. The warm water pouring over him in the shower eased the remaining strain in his muscles and washed the gel off his hair.

After fifteen minutes of standing under the shower, with locks of hair plastered to his forehead, Blaine once again tiptoed into the room and into his bed.

He had just slipped under the sheets, when he realized Trent wasn't asleep.

'You know, I have a brother.' Blaine stirred, surprised Trent was talking to him. 'He's older, two years, and his the favourite. It's always been that way. It's always Cameron this, Cameron that. When he got into Yale, they couldn't shut up about it for… They still haven't. But when I got into NYADA… It was just, "Why didn't you choose something more practical?" There was no "We're so proud you got into the best musical theatre program in the country". That's tough, you know?'

Blaine did know that perfectly well, being the brother of Cooper Anderson and so on, but he couldn't grasp what was Trent's aim here.

'Why are you telling me all this?' Blaine sat up in his bed, propping his elbows on his knees.

Trent was silent for a minute, gazing at the ceiling to avoid Blaine's eyes, though they could barely see each other's silhouettes.

'Cameron… He's gay.' Blaine's forehead furrowed. So what was all that homophobic crap about? 'So, I guess… I mean, I'm no Freud, but I guess I'm taking out my resentment on other gay wonder boys.'

Blaine was starting to understand that this was an apology of sorts.

'Just so you know, my parents have always favoured my brother, too,' he said, laying back down. 'And I'm not taking it out on every single blue-eyed, dark-haired, tall guy there is. Calling me names won't change a thing. It'll just make our living together hell.'

A long sigh came from the opposite side of the room.

'You're right.'

A few minutes lapsed in silence, and Blaine began to drift towards sleep.

'I'm sorry.' The two words reached Blaine through the haze of being half asleep, but he could swear he heard them.

* * *

Somewhere far away a phone started ringing. It was so far… How could he still hear it from such a great distance?

It kept on ringing.

Kurt shifted in his bed, regaining enough consciousness to realize the phone had _All That Jazz_ for the ringtone. Like his phone.

Fuck. It _was_ his phone.

He jumped up, reaching to the bedside table for his cell.

'Hello,' he mumbled to the speaker.

'Kurt, it's me,' Burt's voice announced on the other end. 'I gotta tell you- something's happened.'

'What? What are you talking about?' He was still half asleep.

'It's Finn, buddy. There was a- an explosion- I don't know any details yet. I don't even know, if he's… you know.'

Kurt suddenly snapped out of the slumber completely.

'If he's alive.' He was trying to stay composed. He didn't want to lose any other family member. It hadn't been long since he got used to the idea of having a brother, but losing him… Despite all of his faults – and, gosh, there were many – Kurt really loved Finn. 'Should I tell Rachel?'

Burt was silent for a moment.

'Yeah, but maybe wait till morning? We should know more by then.'

'Okay. Thanks for calling me, Dad.'

'Bye, Kurt. I'll call you when I know more.'

'Bye, Dad.'

It was almost four a.m. Kurt made an attempt at going back to sleep, but ended up only tossing and turning in the sheets. After a short while he figured it made no sense to lie idly in bed and worry about Finn.

So he got up, made himself a cup of green tea and switched on the TV. CNN failed to give him any more information than what he already knew. An Army supply unit going from one province to another… A trap set by a local terrorist cell – or at least that was what they were assuming at this point… One dead, a few injured, no word on the seriousness of their condition. Or even the exact number of the soldiers. No names.

Minutes seeped by, bringing nothing, but what had already been repeated a hundred times. Kurt's anxiety was increasing with each of those minutes. The minutes that turned into hours.

He was starting to doze off on the couch, when his phone rang again. This time it took him a second to wake up, and another to answer.

'Dad?'

'Kurt, just stay calm.'

He would have stayed calm, if not for those exact words.

'Dad, just tell me, what happened to Finn.' His voice trembled.

'He's alive. But he's injured. I don't know _exactly_ what happened yet. Their truck got into the blast, and Finn got hurt. And his condition is serious.'

'Serious, but not critical, right?'

'Really, I don't know. That's all they told Carole so far.'

'Okay. Just…'

'I'll let you know, kiddo, don't you worry.'

Burt hang up. Kurt rubbed his forehead, tears filling his eyes. If he believed in God, he would be praying. But he just kept repeating a cluster of four words like a mantra in his mind.

_Let him be well. Let him be well. Let him be well…_

A rustling somewhere in the apartment made him look up. Rachel was standing on the threshold of her room, puzzled and drowsy.

'What is it, Kurtie?'

Even in the state of her apparent sleepiness, she could see something was worrying him.

Before he could formulate an answer, Rachel was sitting next to him on the sofa and putting her arm around him. But this also made her turn her head to the TV. And the headlines on the screen screamed _US SOLDIERS INJURED IN EXPLOSION._

She gasped, raising her hand to her mouth. A mixture of shock, disbelief and overwhelming fear crept onto her face.

'Finn…,' she whispered. 'Is he…?'

'He's alive, Rache. That's what matters.'

'That's what matters?,' she whispered.

'He was hurt, but we don't know much yet.'

'How did you even know?'

'My Dad called.'

'And why didn't you tell me earlier?!'

'You were asleep.'

'You could've woken me!' She stood up suddenly.

'It wouldn't help, Rache. A moment ago I didn't even had the scanty information I just gave you.' He rose too and pulled her into a tight embrace. She was already sobbing, when he circled her with his arms. 'Shh, he's going to be just fine.'

But as they stood in front of the sofa, him stroking her hair soothingly and her shaking slightly with every sob, Kurt was just wishing he could convince himself.

* * *

Saturday morning was spent on tapping fingers on tables in impatience, waiting with anxiety for another phone call from Congressman Hummel, and Rachel refusing to eat anything. When Kurt finally managed to shove a piece of toast into her mouth, she ended up running to the bathroom a few minutes later, unable to keep anything solid down. Then he kept on preparing her tea, so she wouldn't get dehydrated from the gallons of tears that were continuously flowing down her face.

Kurt was aware that breaking down at this point was unacceptable; Rachel needed him to be her rock. Again. But even though he needed someone to lean on, a shoulder to cry on, and someone's comforting embrace just as much as she did, he knew his friend was much more fragile than most would think. And certainly more fragile than he was.

As much as the bullying he'd suffered hurt him, it also gave him a strength he would've never thought himself capable of; even after his once impenetrable armour had been torn away, and his core irreparably scarred, he acquired a resilience unique only to those who have been through hell and back. And he had been that way. He knew it all too well.

The phone rang around noon. Kurt and Rachel had been sitting silently at the kitchen table, waiting. So when the ringing filled the room, they both jumped up. For some reason the ringing of a phone is always most surprising when you are waiting for it to start.

Rachel's face became even more pallid than it had already been; a white mask with red, puffy eyes and two rivers flowing below them.

Kurt took a deep breath and picked up the phone. He caught a glimpse of the screen, before answering. It didn't say _Dad_.

'Hello?' His voice was husky and quiet from being silent so long.

'Kurt? Oh my God, I saw the news and I was thinking… Was that your step-brother? I mean, I am so sorry, if it was, can I help somehow?'

Even without seeing his face, Kurt could tell Chandler was feeling terribly awkward. But then, why would he call?

'Finn's injured, we don't really know how seriously. You can't help, even we can't really do anything. But thanks, anyway, Chandler.' He was speaking like an automaton, wishing only the conversation was over. Not having to say anything kept him calm.

'Okay… But if you need anything, call me.'

'Sure. Thanks again.'

As soon as Rachel realized it wasn't Burt, she sat back down, fixing her gaze mindlessly on the window. She didn't say a word.

* * *

Finally the phone rang again, and this time it was Burt. Finn's leg got severely injured in the blast and he was being transported to Germany for surgery as they spoke. He also sustained other minor wounds from shrapnel, and there was still some doubt, whether there wasn't any intracranial haemhorrage, but that had to wait for more extensive tests to be determined. As it turned out, more information only increased their fears, but at least they knew now what exactly they were afraid of.

Apart from giving them all the details he and Carole have received about Finn's condition, Burt told his son they were coming to New York. 'Family should be together when stuff like this is happening, right? So we're gonna be together,' he said.

And so they arrived early on Saturday evening. Their visit, that was supposed to be comforting and reassuring, turned into a depressing half hour, filled with Rachel and Carole's sobs, and the Hummels' quiet conversation, during which both were doing their best not to join the women in crying their eyes out.

Apparently, however, the visit did some good to Rachel, who got up on Sunday a little more alive. Her colour was coming back, and so was her appetite. She still teared up every time the speaker on CNN mentioned the blast in a recap of the week's events, but she was far more composed.

Kurt, on the other hand, was beginning to fall apart. Bottling up the need to cry made him feel like he was about to explode, and staying home, with Rachel and the CNN, was not helping in the slightest.

He had to get out, even if just for an hour. He picked up his phone, wondering who could be up for a walk and a talk.

Blaine. That was the first name that popped into his mind.

But what would that guy care about Kurt's family drama? He had his own problems. Why would he even want to glue pieces of Kurt back together? They barely knew each other.

Kurt tapped his call log, and the first name other than _Dad_ and _Carole_ came into view a short way from the top.

Chandler.

* * *

They met by the Winthrop Shelter Pavilion in the McGorlick Park an hour later. Despite his desperate need to get away from the apartment, he wouldn't dare going further than the few blocks, in case his family and Rachel needed him back immediately. Chandler didn't seem to mind coming to Greenpoint; Kurt was quite sure that behind the polite concern his ex-boyfriend expressed was a repressed satisfaction.

It was late in the afternoon, the sky was overcast, giving the park a gloomy feeling. The wind tore at the leaves and people's clothes. Everyone seemed to be running away, back into the warmth of their homes, away from the more and more visibly approaching fall.

Everyone except from the blonde twenty-year-old waiting by the Pavilion with his hands tucked into his pockets, and his scarf whipped around him by the wind.

And except another young man, with unusually for him dishevelled hair, bags under his eyes, and his arms folded on his chest. He looked haggard, even though he was wearing an Alexander McQueen coat.

Chandler had to take a closer look at him to make sure it was Kurt. He had already figured out his ex-boyfriend was in a bad shape, he just hadn't realized how bad it was.

'Kurt?,' he started shyly.

Kurt barely glanced up at him from a foot away. And then he broke down.

The dam was blown to pieces by an explosion of tears; nothing could stop them now. There was no one to stay strong for, no one to expect him to be brave. All the worry, fear and disbelief began to come out of him in rampageous waves.

And Chandler held him, terrified by the onslaught of tears and sobs.

And Kurt was shaking violently, barely able to catch a breath.

Finally, after almost ten minutes of standing there, Kurt in Chandler's arms, sobbing into his chest, it stopped. Kurt inhaled deeply, unfolded his arms – he never moved them in the last quarter – and raised his eyes.

'Thanks for coming,' he said in a small voice. 'I really needed to…'

'I know.'

Chandler wrapped his arm around Kurt's shoulders and led him to the nearest bench. He knew it wouldn't be easy to be around Kurt in those tough times, but the need to be with him he'd always felt made it impossible to stay away. Especially when Kurt needed him too. If he didn't, he wouldn't have called, would he?

So he let Kurt talk. It was clear he hadn't had a chance to simply let all his emotions flow out of him since the news of Finn's predicament arrived. And Chandler understood that nothing more could be done, so he sat next to Kurt on the uncomfortable wooden bench, held his hand, and listened.

* * *

Blaine's weekend passed in an unusual silence. He was sure the room had not been this quiet since before Trent's arrival. They stopped even exchanging the most casual of remarks, only nodding at each other in greeting, barely acknowledging the existence of the other.

Although the uneasiness wasn't easy to cope with, anything would be better than the sense of insecurity Blaine had been feeling for the past week. He was starting to feel relieved. After all, he could never picture himself and Trent as BFFs, but he did not want to be enemies either. He still had next to no one in New York; Kurt and Rachel were so welcoming to him, but he had no desire of being a third wheel in their friendship or force himself on Kurt. There was no denying that he was attracted to the guy; but really, who wouldn't be? The kindness, the hypnotizing eyes, the sweet smile… Not to mention the shapely bum. (Blaine caught himself on staring at Kurt's downside when he saw him a few times in the NYADA hallways. He wasn't exactly sure what he liked better about Kurt: his eyes or his butt.)

Monday morning proved to be equally silent as the weekend had been; a nod for a good morning on each side, as they passed each other by the bathroom door, no goodbye as Blaine went out, leaving Trent behind.

Blaine directed his steps towards Pierre's class, even though he still had some time to spare. He was then hugely surprised to see Kurt and Rachel huddled at a the bottom of the staircase nearest to his class, both looking pale and defeated. At first he thought it would be wise to slip by unnoticed, but then, if the situations were reversed, he'd like someone, _anyone_, to notice his distress.

'Hey, guys… Is everything alright?'

Kurt looked up with his sad reddened eyes. The concern in Blaine's voice sounded so _sincere_. Maybe he was wrong then to assume Blaine wouldn't care about his problems?

He sighed heavily, letting the air out as slowly as possible.

'No, um- My step-brother… He's in the Army. And he- he was in that blast on Friday.'

Blaine wasn't following the news very carefully, not as carefully as football or Vogue, anyway, but he had heard about the explosion that led to the death of one American soldier, and severe injuries of four others. He hadn't paid attention to the incident; there had been multiple such occurrences since the beginning of the War on Terror that he grew indifferent. They happened to strange people somewhere far away. Or not really.

'Oh my God… I am so sorry.' He couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. 'I know I probably can't help in any way, but if you – either of you – needed anything, to talk or something, you know where to find me, right?'

Kurt smiled faintly at him.

'Thanks, Blaine.'

Rachel mirrored her friend's expression.

'Yeah, thank you, that's so sweet of you.'

'I'd be glad to help.' He patted Kurt reassuringly on the shoulder, smiled at Rachel, and left them in the quiet of an early morning at NYADA.

* * *

**A/N:** So, why am I uploading on a Wednesday? Two reasons: I realised if I uploaded every Saturday, Chapter 12 would have to come out on the weekend when I'm in London and I'll be offline for a few days, and I'd rather be around when this particular chapter comes out. And second reason: I started uploading one chapter a week, because I wasn't sure if I could manage wiriting enough to update more often. As it turns out, I'm getting really close to finishing the whole thing, so I can speed up posting it a little bit. I have some three chapters or so more to write. Yay! I'm actually going to finish this!

And yeah, Finn. And Chandler. I'd love to hear some feedback on those!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The following week passed so slowly, Kurt sometimes wondered whether the time didn't simply stand still. Between their classes and dinners with Carole and Burt, him and Rachel spent long hours waiting for news that did not come frequently enough. And the family meals only reminded them why they were all together. No distraction could take their minds off Finn for long.

'So, Kurt, is there someone special?,' started Carole one night, determined to take the conversation away from her son's condition. She probably needed a distraction more than anybody else.

Burt rolled his eyes, far from willing to hear about Kurt's love life. As much as he loved his son to bits, any discussion of a boyfriend was a painfully uncomfortable experience for him. And he was quite positive it would be no different if his son was a daughter.

'Um, no, Carole, no boyfriend,' replied Kurt, with a small embarrassed smile. He was almost as keen on a family discussion of his love life as his father.

Rachel cleared her throat, prompting Kurt to send her a meaningful glare over his plate of salad.

'Rachel, honey, he's not telling us something, am I right?'

Kurt kicked Rachel under the table, startling her into jumping up a good couple of inches into the air.

'No, why?'

''Cause he just kicked you under the table,' chuckled Burt.

'No, he didn't.'

Kurt leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

'Rachel _thinks_ I like a freshman at NYADA.'

'Oh, who is he?,' asked Carole excitedly.

'_Dad, help!_,' Kurt mouthed to his father. At this point, however, Burt was beginning to enjoy himself for the first time in days, and didn't want his fun spoiled, so he shrugged helplessly in response. 'It doesn't matter, Carole, it's all a figment of Rachel's imagination.'

'Well, not exactly, I didn't make Blaine up.'

Another murderous glare was directed at Rachel.

'Blaine? What a nice name.'

Kurt prevented himself from giving his step-mother a similar look.

A moment of awkward silence made them all remember what was the reason of their desperate search for a distraction.

But he news from Germany got better and better with each passing day. Finn's surgery went well, no additional damage was uncovered, and he was on his way to recovery. Within three weeks, Finn was going to be transported from Heidelberg back to the US, and Burt had pulled all possible strings to get him somewhere close to his family. Eventually, it was settled that Finn would be treated and rehabilitated in West Point. Having him just a little over an hour away was a great comfort; they felt as if that somehow made Finn safer than he would be anywhere else.

During the tough couple of weeks, Kurt was seeing much more of Chandler than he'd thought he would at all in New York City. And the awkwardness he'd noticed over the summer between them seemed to have vanished. The most comforting part of being with Chandler now was that Kurt could for once let everything out, and not care about what his dad, Carole, or Rachel were thinking. Chandler was there for _him_, and only him. He passed him tissues when Kurt was crying, and held him, and soothed him, and listened to him.

The day the news of Finn coming to West Point was announced to the Hudson-Hummels and Rachel, Chandler came over, as he did almost every day for the last two weeks. They went to Kurt's room with cups of coffee in their hands and a plate of cookies Carole had baked.

Kurt was going back to his regular self, no longer worried out of his mind about his step-brother. This time there was no need for tissues, or reassuring pats on the back.

'Oh my, I love what you did with this room!,' said Chandler, having settled in the chair by Kurt's desk. 'Really classy.'

Kurt was sitting on the edge of his bed, starting to regain the feeling of uneasiness he'd recently lost. Somehow the idea to take Chandler into his room didn't seem so good anymore. The two of them together in a room with a bed, behind closed doors… That brought them back to the few _really_ embarrassing moments they shared under similar circumstances back in Lima. It wasn't something Kurt was willing to relive.

Unfortunately, Chandler seemed to disagree.

While Kurt's attention started drifting off to the (not always) good old times, Chandler kept prattling on. About the room, about the flat, about them together…

Kurt snapped out of his reverie, when Chandler suddenly appeared right next to him, sitting down facing him on the bed. Kurt's breath hitched. _That is NOT what I wanted._

'Kurt, can we start over?', Chandler asked.

There was nothing that couldn't be predicted about this situation; they used to be a couple, they were both single, they still had plenty in common, they were no longer divided by almost six hundred miles of land. But Kurt hadn't thought of that. He certainly hadn't intended that.

He was unable to find his voice, and before he knew it, Chandler was leaning towards him, clearly expecting a similar gesture from Kurt. When Kurt didn't move a millimeter, it didn't discourage Chandler. Until his lips were on Kurt's.

And the feeling was so familiar… Those lips pressing on his own, the warm body closing in… The hand grasping the back of his neck. His reason told him to pull back, open his eyes and tell Chandler to get out.

But it all felt so _good_. He had almost forgotten how he liked the sensation of being kissed, the rushed heartbeats, the sweaty palms…

Then his thoughts shifted. He recalled how distant he and Chandler grew, how he never could open up completely before him about what he'd been through. How he never could imagine them growing old together.

He realized he was already half-lying, and Chandler was leaning over him. And all of the sudden the good sensation began to simultaneously feel _wrong_.

Kurt raised his hands, pushing Chandler gently away.

'Stop,' he mumbled under Chandler's urgent lips.

Chandler recoiled startled. He fixed his gaze on Kurt's defensively lifted hands.

'I'm- I'm so sorry, if you thought that I…' The words had to be said, but having to practically repeat the experience of breaking up with Chandler was not something he was comfortable with. There was nothing in the world Kurt Hummel liked less than hurting people. 'I don't want to get back together,' he let the words out in one stream.

'Oh.'

Chandler was fighting to keep his face straight, not to show the disappointment and hurt that were starting to take over.

'I guess I should go,' he managed to say, before standing up, and heading for the door.

'Chandler, wait!'

But he was already gone.

* * *

The two weeks following Kurt's brother's injury Blaine spent mostly searching for Kurt in the NYADA hallways. He didn't mean to force himself into Kurt's life, he simply wanted to make sure Kurt was doing fine. He noticed Rachel was slowly regaining her usual babbling personality. The glimpses of Kurt he managed to catch each day seemed to prove the worst was over.

Kurt's hair was again as perfect as the first time he'd seen him, the bags under his eyes became almost unnoticeable.

Till one Tuesday, when he was heading home, Blaine stumbled upon a depressed Kurt sitting on a set of stairs with his chin propped on his hands.

'Hi,' Blaine started uncertainly. 'Is everything okay? Something with your brother?'

Kurt looked up sadly at him, shaking his head.

'No, it's not that.'

'Wanna talk?'

A fleeting relieved smile crossed Kurt's lips.

'Yeah. Coffee?'

'Sure.'

They found a quiet table in the corner of a small coffee shop nearby, where they say down with their steaming cups. Silence lingered for a moment.

'So, why are you so upset?,' Blaine asked.

Kurt sighed heavily, waving his hand dismissively.

'It's stupid, really. Especially considering what we've been through with Finn and all… It just seems so… petty.'

'Tell me, I promise I'm not going to judge.'

Two smiles were exchanged, and two gazes were dropped onto two cups of coffee.

'Um- It's my ex-boyfriend,' Kurt said, stressing the "_ex_".

Blaine couldn't say he was surprised by the existence of an ex-boyfriend, but felt a slight pang of jealousy.

'What about him?'

'Well, he wanted to get back together, and I… I didn't.' He shrugged uneasily. 'It just gets me down, 'cause he's a good guy, and I… I just don't really like disappointing people.'

Blaine nodded sympathetically.

'You shouldn't beat yourself up. It probably wouldn't work out anyway, if you didn't want it, right?'

'Yeah, I guess,' sighed Kurt. 'But still, I'd rather be friends with him, and it didn't really turn out that way. He stormed out before I could stop him.'

'Ouch.'

'Yeah, but if I were any less firm about it, I'd probably give in, and we'd end up horizontally, before I could say "I don't want to get back together."'

Kurt paused and laughed nervously, when he realized he might have shared a little too much. It was so _easy_ to talk to Blaine, he sometimes forgot they barely knew each other.

'I think you did what you had to. You should look out for yourself.' Blaine was trying to push away the thoughts that started crowding his mind at Kurt's use of the word _horizontally_. They were way too distracting. 'Um- And how long were you two together for?'

'Six months. But that was almost a year ago.' He stopped for a moment. 'We met back in Lima, we were both finishing high school, and we both wanted to go to New York for college. But I got in, and he didn't. And the long-distance thing didn't work out. Maybe if I were more invested in it, I don't know.' Another shrug, another sad expression.

Blaine was taking in every word, every motion, every twitch in Kurt's face. After a moment's hesitation he decided to asked a question.

'And did you… Did you love him?'

Kurt's eyes snapped up. The question surprised him a little, but it didn't feel like Blaine was being nosy; he seemed genuinely interested in Kurt's life. Like a friend would be.

'I don't know. I thought I did, but now… I don't think so.' He paused, and opened his mouth a second later, as if he wanted to add something, but hesitated.

'Yeah?,' Blaine prompted.

Kurt laughed and shook his head in response.

'It's terribly silly.'

'I'd rather judge for myself. I'm not going to laugh.'

'Okay.' Kurt looked around, making sure there was no one in the vicinity to eavesdrop on them. 'Have you ever seen _The Notebook_?'

'Sure. Why?'

'Well, I always dreamed to have a love story like that to tell my children, and grandchildren. Only to be able to have the love of my life by my side when we're old, wrinkled and gray-haired, you know?'

'To grow old together. That's not silly at all.'

'You think so?'

'Absolutely. I happen to have a very similar dream myself.'

* * *

Hours flew by. Neither of them felt the passing of time; they realized how long it had been only when Blaine noticed with astonishment it was already dark outside. Their conversation jumped from Kurt's love life to Vogue covers, to Broadway shows, to Lima, and then to show choir competitions with unbelievable ease.

'Oh god, I should be going,' said Kurt, finally taking a peek at his cell phone to check the time. 'I'm the one cooking dinners, so I have to run, unless I want to starve my best friend.'

They started standing up and putting their coats on.

'You and Rachel seem an odd pair of best friends. She seems so _bitchy_ most of the time, and you're just so… nice.'

Kurt barked out a laugh.

'I know. But when you get to know her better, you'll see we're quite alike.' He paused, realizing what he'd just said. 'I mean, if you did, you would.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Blaine hastily, hoping deep down Kurt had meant exactly what he'd said the first time. 'So, you can cook. Wow. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised.'

'Please, it's not like I can cook the fanciest dishes in the world. But if I were to believe my family – and Rachel, but she's basically family – I am one hell of a chef.'

Kurt led the way to the door, which he held for Blaine on the way out. His gallantry impressed Blaine; there were so few gentlemen left.

'I can only believe your word.'

'Come on, you'll get to taste the Hummel cuisine some time.' Kurt smiled at him, his eyes sparkling. 'You could come with me tonight, but… You know, it's crowded now with my family, and Rachel considers herself a great matchmaker, and it would just be awkward…'

Blaine raised his eyebrows at _matchmaker_. Kurt raised his right hand to stop him from talking.

'Don't ask. It's just typical crazy Rachel.' He shook his head.

Thankfully, Kurt was looking away from Blaine when an expression of disappointment crossed his face. Apparently Rachel considered them a good match, but the concept of them together was ridiculous to Kurt. _Well, it's better to learn something like that now, than when I've already fallen for him._

They walked in silence, until they reached Kurt's subway station.

'So… Um- See you at NYADA?,' said Blaine, breaking the silence – awkward to him, pleasant and companionable to Kurt.

'Yes. It was a really nice coffee.' Kurt gave Blaine a friendly squeeze on the arm, smiling. 'Oh, and you're coming to dinner sometime, when I get rid of my family.'

'I'll hold you to that promise.'

The last smiles were exchanged, Kurt waved his hand at Blaine gracefully, leaving him at the entrance to the subway station. Blaine lingered a moment, his hands stuck in his pockets to shield him from the evening chill, and his gaze glued to the spot where Kurt had just disappeared. Finally, he sighed and turned around, heading for the dorms.

Meanwhile, Kurt was getting on the subway, sitting next to a window, and smiling to himself involuntarily, all the while thinking of the last few hours.

* * *

At the apartment, Kurt directed his steps straight to the kitchen. He was already late with the dinner; Carole and Burt were supposed to arrive in less than half an hour. Kurt washed his hands hastily over the sink, blessing himself for having prepared the chicken last night. All there was to do was chopping up vegetables and steaming the whole lot.

As he was busy in the kitchen, the music that was seeping out of Rachel's room stopped, and she emerged into the main room.

'Hi, Kurtie.'

Her tone betrayed her curiosity.

'Hi, Rachel. Whatever it is, ask the question,' he said with a sigh.

'I know for a fact that you finish classes at the same hour as I do, but somehow I've been home over four hours ago, and you came like… four minutes ago.'

'I didn't hear the question.'

'Where were you?' Her voice wasn't accusing or judgmental, it was simply full of excitement.

There was no point in telling anything but the truth, even if it meant a validation of what she imagined she saw between him and Blaine.

'I was having coffee with Blaine.'

Rachel squealed excitedly. Kurt wasn't looking at her, but could swear he heard her throw a fist in the air in a triumphant gesture.

'Rache, we had coffee. In a coffee shop, with people around, and our hands on the table. And the only thing we used our mouths for, was conversation. Well, and drinking coffee. Nothing more.'

'If you say so.' She didn't seem discouraged in the slightest. 'But I know what I know.'

* * *

As he was opening his dorm room's door, Blaine's lips were arching slightly upwards; it was an immensely enjoyable afternoon, after all. He'd never even thought he really stood a chance with Kurt anyway. And the hours they spent together over their coffee cups, talking so unreservedly, made him like Kurt even more than he already had.

Blaine was so absorbed by his Kurt-themed reverie, he didn't even notice Trent, until his roommate looked up from his laptop, took off his headphones and addressed him. He actually _talked to _Blaine.

'Oh, somebody was on a date, I assume.'

Blaine hopped up startled, and frowned at Trent. Since when were they speaking again? And without insults?

'Okay, so now you want to discuss my extracurricular activities?'

'Um… Blaine, I know I was a dick to you. And you were right that I was lashing out on you because of something that… wasn't about you. And I'm sorry.'

Blaine bit his lip, eyeing Trent carefully; he seemed to be genuinely sorry.

'Apology accepted?' It was more of a question.

'So who did you go out with?'

'So you're going from homophobic asshole to gay's BFF overnight? Wow, that's impressive.'

'First of all, it's not exactly _overnight_, and second – I'm just curious.' He paused, considering something. 'And I guess we should get along better, if we have to stand one another in here.'

Blaine held his hands up in surrender.

'Fine. But it's not like I'm amnesiac.'

'Okay. So you won't tell me who it was?'

'Geez, really? You'll bug me now every time I come to the dorm late?' Blaine fell backwards to his bed. This was getting stranger by the minute.

'Well, roomies should know who their roomies date, right?' Trent grinned widely.

Blaine groaned, covering his face and sitting up.

'First of all, it wasn't a _date_,' he said, mimicking Trent's voice, 'and second, it was Kurt.'

Trent raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

'You went out with _Kurt Hummel_, the most flaming of all NYADA gays, and you're saying it wasn't a date?'

'No, it wasn't. Can't two gay guys have coffee as friends?,' said Blaine, a little too harshly.

A crooked half-smile appeared on Trent's face.

'Well, they can I suppose, but someone's disappointed it wasn't a date.'

Blaine rolled his eyes.

'Okay, BFF gossip time's over.'

* * *

That Tuesday night Carole announced that Finn was going to arrive in West Point at the weekend, and arrangements were made for them all to go and greet him.

And so at noon on Saturday, Burt and Carole came to pick up Kurt and Rachel from Greenpoint in a rented Chevy SUV.

And after an hour and a half of chit-chat while driving up the state, trying not to think of the condition they will find Finn in, they arrived at the Keller Army Community Hospital. They asked at the nurses' desk if PFC Hudson had already arrived at the facility. The answer was they were expecting him any minute.

So they waited.

An hour passed before a distant sound of a helicopter was heard, growing louder and closer with each minute. They were instructed to wait in the lobby, and Finn would be wheeled in when the aircraft had landed.

They were aware Finn would be seriously hurt, both on his body and mind. They knew there would be a cast, bandages, a wheelchair… They knew he'd be traumatized by the blast.

But the person they saw in that wheelchair was hardly the one they remembered. His hair cut almost to the skin shocked no longer. His injured leg outstretched before him in a cast, the half-healed cuts on his face and forearms, and the bandage on his right hand, they were all to be expected.

His face was what had changed the most. No trace of that goofy smile. No light in those usually sparkling eyes. It was the face of a stranger; an unmoving, unfamiliar mask.

* * *

**A/N: **I truly appreciate all the feedback, so keep it coming! :)

Currently I'm working on chapter 14, so I guess all that's left for me to do, is finishing that one, and then chapter 15, and maybe an epilogue. We'll see how it works out.

Also, an idea popped into my mind for another story, and I even started writing the first chapter, so that it wouldn't escape me... No way of saying, if I'll ever post it, but it is an option :) Though it'd be a completely different type of thing. With Klaine and fluff, but really different.

Anyhow, chapter 7 is going to arrive on Wednesday I suppose :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

'Finn, honey!,' called Carole, seeing her son in the entrance, and running towards him. Reaching his side, she became hesitant, visibly disturbed by his empty expression.

'Hi, Mom,' he muttered in a tired, unenthusiastic voice.

The rest of them lingered behind, their mouths slightly open in a painful shock. They certainly had expected a changed Finn; that maybe he'd mature, maybe he'd grow wiser… But it seemed every bit of hope and joy had been destroyed in him.

While Carole was keeping her son in an unbroken embrace, wetting his shoulder with her profusely shed tears, Burt took care of the formalities. Soon afterwards, Finn was wheeled into his room, doctors greeted him in their hospital, promising the best care he could wish for. All the while Finn looked like he wished for nothing whatsoever. He didn't even appear to be listening; he was just sitting there, with his gaze fixed on the floor, his body practically unmoving. Blinking was the only proof he was still among the living.

'Honey, how was your flight? Did they take good care of you?,' Carole asked with concern after the doctors had left.

'Yeah.'

'And do you need anything? Some pain medication?'

'No.'

'Okay… Maybe you want me to help you onto the bed?'

'No.'

Carole was becoming more and more desperate. There was nothing she wanted more than to be helpful to her son who had already been through hell. And apparently there was nothing she could do. _Nothing_ _he wanted her to do_.

Suddenly, a sob came from the corner, where Rachel was standing, her hands pressed to her chest, as if she was having trouble catching a breath. Her eyes were wide open with terror, and filled with tears threatening to fall any second.

As all the gazes, except for Finn's, fell on her, she just shook her head frantically and ran for the door. Seeing Burt and Carole froze dumbstruck, Kurt followed her closely behind.

He found her at the end of the hallway, standing by one of the high windows. Her face was already flooded with tears.

'Rache…'

She turned around to face him in one swift movement.

'It's like I don't know him anymore, Kurt. Did you even see him?'

'Sure, we were all there…'

'I mean, did you _see_ him? It's like Finn was… gone.' Rachel began to sob violently, trembling all over. Kurt caught her in an embrace, trying to steady her.

But soon enough they were both crying, clutching at each other.

* * *

The car on the way back to New York City was filled with an insufferable silence. Any attempt at breaking it failed miserably; none of them were capable of talking of petty things, when their minds were full of Finn, or whoever it was they just left in West Point.

Kurt had probably never seen Rachel this quiet, this introverted. Carole uttered not more than a dozen words during the whole drive back, wiping her eyes stealthily from time to time. Burt was almost as quiet as he was right after Kurt's mother's death; he was glancing anxiously over the others' faces to make sure everyone was relatively fine. He couldn't expect them to _really be fine_, but he hoped his son and Rachel were done sobbing in a tight embrace, the way he found them earlier in the hospital hallway. It couldn't get worse than that.

* * *

Rachel's face on Monday morning looked like that of a ghost. Or so it seemed to Blaine when he saw her in Madame Tibideaux's class.

'Hey, Rachel, is everything alright?,' he whispered to her, taking a seat behind her.

She smiled weakly in response.

'I'm fine, it's just that… Finn – Kurt's step-brother – was transported to West Point Saturday, and…' Her voice trailed off. She swallowed and sucked in a deep breath. 'Well, it's bad.'

'Oh.' Blaine couldn't find anything appropriate to say. 'Um- Can I… help or whatever?'

'No, unless you're some undercover PTSD expert. But thanks.'

He gave her a pat on the back, hoping to be reassuring.

The conversation with Rachel filled Blaine's mind with thoughts of Kurt, so when he bumped into him on the way out after classes, he was close to believing he drew Kurt to himself telepathically.

'Kurt! Hi, I talked to Rachel this morning, she told me about your brother…'

Kurt sighed.

'At least she's speaking again. She went kinda dumb over the weekend.'

'How are you holding up?'

With his eyes locked in the distance behind the open front door, and his lower lip trembling, Kurt shrugged.

'Um- Do you wanna talk?,' Blaine asked uncertainly. 'Coffee?'

Kurt looked into those warm, hazel eyes, and nodded.

'I could use that.'

* * *

The apartment seemed deserted now; Carole spent most of her time in West Point, helping Finn with everything, from eating to physical therapy, and sobbing in the bathroom, whenever she had a spare moment. Burt was forced to go to D.C. to take care of Congress business, and then to Lima, to check on the tire shop.

As a result, Kurt and Rachel had their place all to themselves, but instead of enjoying their reclaimed freedom, they simply felt alone. Neither of them was able to push Finn out of their minds, even though by some silent agreement he became almost a taboo topic in their conversations.

Kurt found comfort in the increasingly frequent coffee dates with Blaine, who was gradually becoming a trusted and objective confidante. Blaine seemed to always be there, whenever Kurt was in need of a sympathetic presence, someone to patiently listen or someone to be silent with.

Meanwhile, Blaine began to hang out more – especially in between classes – with Rachel, who appeared to be quite lonely as well. He soon found out neither in the Hummel-Berry friendship was keen on discussing the whole Finn situation between the two of them. So he took it upon himself to listen to both and be a sort of a silent mediator between them. Both Kurt and Rachel were aware of Blaine spending time with the other, but they never mentioned talking to him about Finn. Or the other.

They did mention each other to Blaine from time to time. Cutting their best friend out of a sincere conversation would be terribly difficult, after all, if not entirely impossible. With each of Kurt's references to Rachel, all his emotions towards his best friend could be read out of his face as from an open book; his love, his concern, his affection. And every time Kurt's name was mentioned by Rachel, she would glance furtively at Blaine, appraising his reaction (of which he wasn't entirely aware, and she found the results quite satisfactory).

On a sunny mid-October afternoon, Blaine was leaning on the wall next to the front entrance, when Kurt finally emerged from the school in a hurry. He seemed slightly nervous, but quite cheerful at the same time – especially when compared with the gloomy mood he was in for the majority of the few last weeks.

'Sorry I'm late,' he blurted out. 'And can we change the plans a little?'

Blaine took off his yellow sunglasses, eyeing Kurt.

'A little meaning how much?'

'Um, how about going to Greenpoint, getting groceries, and coffee and dinner at my place? With Rachel, obviously, she has to eat, too.'

It took Blaine a moment to answer. He opened his mouth and raised his eyebrows. Getting along with both of them was easy, when they were separated; there was no guarantee it wouldn't change with the three of them together in one room. And neither Kurt, nor Rachel knew exactly how much the other had been telling their mutual friend.

'Um- fine by me. But will Rachel be okay with that?,' he finally said.

Kurt shot him a doubtful look.

'You serious? She adores you.'

Blaine's eyebrows went even higher up on his forehead.

'Huh, really?'

'Come on, who doesn't?'

* * *

'You do like spinach, don't you? Because if you didn't that would sort of screw up my dinner plans.' Kurt looked at Blaine expectantly, only to see him slightly amused.

'Nothing against spinach.'

'That's a relief,' sighed Kurt. 'Then I won't have to drag you around the store for an hour, trying to figure out something else.'

Kurt managed to gather all the products he needed in under ten minutes and in another ten they were climbing the stairs to the Hummel-Berry apartment, laden with shopping bags (Blaine didn't let Kurt carry everything, despite his pleas). Upstairs, they were greeted by Rachel singing along to Barbra, before they even managed to reach the third storey landing.

'Well, that's pretty normal in here,' said Kurt.

'It seems more like NYADA dorms than the NYADA dorms.' Blaine grinned at him. Listening to Rachel all day long couldn't be considered an ordeal; the girl had a stunning voice after all.

Kurt set down a bag to ring the bell, sniggering. Rachel opened the door before them with a smile that widened the moment she saw Blaine.

'Oh, hi! Kurt didn't say you were coming!' And she sent Kurt a questioning look behind Blaine's back.

'Guys, this place is so cool! The dorms are a shithole compared to this.'

Rachel took advantage of the fact that Kurt was busy unpacking the groceries, and intercepted Blaine.

'Yeah, right? It's all Kurt though, you know, he did all this.'

'Seriously? Wow, that's awesome.' He looked positively impressed, and Rachel – absolutely delighted with herself.

'He even painted the walls and the furniture himself.'

'Rachel, please,' Kurt finally cut in. 'Don't make it sound like a big deal.'

'Are you kidding? You could easily make a living in interior design,' said Blaine. 'How did you get so talented anyway?' He grinned at Kurt, his eyes sparkling playfully.

And Kurt couldn't help it, but blush a little at the compliment. No guy has been this nice to him since… Well, since Chandler.

Before long, the three of them sat over coffee, as comfortable as ever. And as if by some magical force, both Kurt's and Rachel's minds were freed from the worries weighing on them for the few previous weeks. And both of them were laughing along with Blaine, like they used to back in the old times, before Finn joined the Army, before Rachel was rejected by NYADA, before Kurt was beaten up. And Blaine before he was beaten up. They drank their coffee, practiced their assigned songs for their vocal classes together, joked, teased and laughed. Kurt cooked, with a little help from Rachel, and Blaine asking if he could give them a hand every two minutes. They ate their dinner, Kurt's spinach-and-chicken cannelloni dubbed one of the best meals Blaine had ever tasted. And Rachel backed out into her room, leaving Kurt and Blaine to say goodbye on the threshold.

And she peeked at them through the crack she left in the door, while they hugged tentatively. And she smiled, when they smiled at each other with their final byes.

They all were feeling painfully, unbelievably _normal_.

And for that one short afternoon they all were _whole_.

* * *

**A/N: **This one's short, I know.

But on the upside, I finished writing! This story is officially done, it has an ending, and I will post it, eventually. But not to spoil the fun, I'll keep on uploading twice a week, as I'm still doing some revising, corrections, etc. ... I might still change some minor details, or add something, we'll see.

And I can say there are 15 chapters and a tiny epilogue.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

But reality has a way of catching up with people. And every visit they paid to the Keller Army Community Hospital reminded Kurt and Rachel fiercely of that.

Finn seemed to be stuck in a sleepless slumber; he answered in monosyllables and never spoke first. Even his appointed therapist was unable to force him to talk, proving any therapy utterly pointless. So the psychiatrist only sighed heavily, prescribing one antidepressant after another, one anti-anxiety drug after another. What nobody in the hospital staff had yet discovered was that Finn refused to take any drugs at all, and became quite skillful at deception and stuffing all his pills under his mattress – and throwing them out before an orderly would come to change the bed and find them.

Carole tried reaching out to him, pleading him to talk to her, to the therapist, to anybody at all. Everything in vain. Burt was still away, and his wife could do nothing but cry into the phone, with him listening and yearning to hold her on the other end of the line. Kurt took it upon himself to spend as much time with his step-mother as possible, but between his classes and her visits to West Point, there was not much time anyway.

But he could clearly see Carole needed a break; she was at the verge of sanity, her eyes almost completely dried out from all the tears shed in hospital bathrooms or in Kurt's comforting arms.

'She's just so exhausted, I don't know how I could help her,' he told Blaine one afternoon in their usual coffee shop. He shrugged, trying to fight off the tears filling his eyes. 'She could use a break from all this.'

Blaine didn't answer for a moment, looking at Kurt with sympathy.

'So maybe… Let her take a break, you know?'

'What?'

'Go and see Finn, and let her stay and rest for a day.'

Kurt lifted his gaze, having wiped his eyes with a napkin.

'I never thought of that.' He considered it for a moment. 'Then, I guess, tomorrow I'm ditching classes and going to West Point.'

* * *

The next morning, Carole was informed she was to take advantage of the spa treatments offered by her hotel, and Rachel went to classes feeling terribly lonely without her best friend at her side – even though freshmen and sophomores didn't have many occasions of interacting during the day anyway. Having him in the same building was comforting.

Meanwhile, Kurt rented a car – a stylish gleaming red Fiat 500 – and started his journey up the state with his heart in his throat.

One reason for his anxiety was the fact that he hadn't sat behind the steering wheel for a few weeks, having no vehicle in the city. What was, however, mostly responsible for the tension he was feeling, was the dread that Finn could be in a _worse_ state than the last time he'd seen him.

And that kept him on edge throughout the whole drive, despite the collection of his favourite musical numbers blaring from the speakers.

* * *

He was fidgeting, when he entered the hospital, directing his footsteps to the elevators. Never before had he fully understood why the phrase was "worried sick"; now he was exactly that. Concern about his brother made him nauseous. Along with the fact that he no longer could predict how Finn would behave.

He inhaled deeply, before pushing the door open, and entering Finn's room.

His step-brother was standing by the window, propped on a pair of crutches, gazing unseeingly into the green space behind the hospital.

'Hi,' Kurt said in a small voice.

No response.

'I brought you cookies. Chocolate chip, your favourites. And I remembered not to put any raisins in them, I promise.' He laughed nervously. Still no reaction from Finn.

A moment passed in silence. Kurt began to scan the room; it looked exactly the way it had that first day Finn had spent in West Point. There was no trace of anyone's presence, apart from the disheveled sheets on the bed, and a simple ceramic mug on the nightstand. No photos, no flowers, no cards, no balloons, like the ones Kurt had spotted through some open doors on the way. The room appeared as empty as Finn.

From the lack of a better thing to do, Kurt began making Finn's bed. He fluffed the pillow, and motioned to lift the mattress a little to tuck the sheet under it.

'Don't!'

Kurt jumped up. Hearing Finn raise his voice after receiving no response at all was very startling. And as suspicious. Kurt turned to face Finn, who was breathing deeply and rapidly, with his eyes wandering somewhere to Kurt's right.

'Why?'

Kurt's gaze peered into Finn's horrified face.

'Just… don't.'

'Fine,' Kurt replied, straightening, and moving away from the bed, all the while keeping an eye on Finn, who returned to his previous position by the window.

The second Finn was facing away from him, Kurt leaped forwards, and pushed the mattress away from the bed frame. To his astonishment, a handful of pills fell out to the floor, scattering all over, released from between the fabric and the metal.

Finn turned back around, his jaw dropped in horror.

'Oh my god, Finn…'

Words escaped Kurt; he could just stare at the pills littering the floor. He couldn't understand _why_.

_Why_ would someone so utterly lost refuse to be helped?

_Why_ would Finn not take his medication?

_Why_ would his brother not want to get better?

_WHY_?

Finn barely kept his balance, leaning on the windowsill behind him. Kurt sank onto the bed, his eyes still stuck to the pills rolling in all possible directions on the floor. It took him a few minutes to arrange the mess in his mind, and compose himself enough to stop the trembling of his lower lip.

'Finn… Why…?' A pause. He forced himself to look up at his step-brother. 'Why did you- why were you doing this?' He waved his hand vaguely over the floor.

The whole of Finn's body was shaking, the crutches threatening to fall out of his hands any second.

'What's the point?,' he murmured so quietly Kurt barely heard it.

'What? _What's the point_?!' Kurt stood up vigorously, rage beginning to boil within him. 'Have you thought, even for a moment, about all the people you're hurting right now? More than your- injury had already hurt them? Have you thought about that? About your mom? My Dad? Rachel? Everyone? Me? You think we don't care what happens to you?!'

Finn was silent, trembling more and more powerfully, until the crutches hit the floor with a clatter, and he slid to the floor awkwardly, because of the cast still covering his left leg.

'You can't just give up! Those pills are supposed to help you, we all want to help you, Finn!' Kurt was frantically searching for things to say that would _somehow_ make Finn listen to him. 'I know it must be tough, and I can't even _begin_ to imagine what it was all like,' he lowered his voice, 'but let us help you. Please.' He leant over Finn, realizing there were tears streaming down his brother's face.

A sob came with another huge tremble.

Kurt knelt beside him, cautiously putting his arms around Finn's shoulders.

'I can't.'

'What? What is it?'

Kurt pulled himself back to look into Finn's face.

'I can't take them.'

'Why?,' asked Kurt, failing to understand what his brother meant.

'I just can't.' He inhaled a lungful of air, and let it out slowly, before speaking again. ''Cause if I do… I'm scared I'll…'

He paused, but Kurt waited patiently for him to finish. Finn gulped.

'I'm afraid I'll end up like him.'

Kurt still didn't know what he meant.

'Like who?'

Another sob, another river of tears.

'Like my dad.'

Suddenly it all made perfect sense; knowing the true cause of his father's death was hard enough for Finn even before he had lived through any war trauma of his own. Now, it was simply too much for him to handle.

'Oh, sweetie,' said Kurt, embracing Finn tightly one more time. 'You won't. I'm here. I won't leave you. _We_ won't. You have nothing to worry about.'

* * *

'Excuse me, sir?'

The male nurse at the desk was facing the other way, when Kurt approached.

'It's not sir, it's Specialist,' he replied with a kind smile, turning around and casting a glance over Kurt. 'How can I help you?', he asked a few seconds later.

'Um, I'm Kurt Hummel, I'm PFC Hudson's brother?'

The nurse nodded in acknowledgement.

'Yes, I know. Is there a problem?'

'Yes, actually, si- Specialist… O'Donnell…,' he added, reading the name tag on the man's camouflage scrubs, 'Finn- PFC Hudson- he's been stuffing his meds under his bed's mattress. I guess it's not terribly helpful with his therapy, if he does that, is it?'

The nurse nodded again.

'It's not. It's also not uncommon.' Seeing the slightly incredulous expression that was emerging on Kurt's face, he added hastily, 'But we'll make sure it won't happen again, Mr Hummel.'

Kurt smiled faintly in response to the nurse's reassuring smile.

'It's Kurt, not Mr Hummel.'

'Then it's Sean, not Specialist O'Donnell.'

* * *

It was getting late, and the hospital room was growing darker. Kurt and Finn sat huddled on the latter's bed, their backs to the wall.

'One of the guys died there, you know?,' said Finn quietly. 'I still don't really believe.'

He took a quick glance at his brother, expecting skepticism from him, but Kurt only nodded slowly. He understood completely; after all these years, there were still mornings when he'd wake up hoping his mom would make him pancakes for breakfast.

'And it's a bit like- I don't know- like I lost that leg in the- the blast.' Finn's voice trembled at the last word. 'It's so stupid.'

He began to pick at the edge of his sheets.

'It's not stupid.' Kurt was hesitant; he never really talked to Finn about the _incident_, as he usually referred to it in his mind. He inhaled deeply before speaking, in the hope to build up his courage and keep calm. 'You know, when I got beat up…'

Finn looked up. The idea that Kurt would _get it_ never entered his mind.

'It was as if- as if someone smashed me to the ground. Like I was made of glass or- or fucking _porcelain_, and I just _shattered_.'

'Really?'

'Yeah.'

They were silent for a minute, Finn thinking intently over what Kurt had told him.

'How do you- How do you _live_? With something- like that?'

Kurt shrugged.

'You just do. You pick yourself up and glue the pieces together, hoping they won't fall apart again.'

* * *

Kurt was sprawled on the couch, rubbing his forehead. For some reason he didn't care much about getting his Alexander McQueen outfit creased, or about the fact that Blaine was sitting in the chair next to him, watching him closely.

'So you're sure they'll take good care of him now?,' Blaine asked after a few seconds of silence. Kurt had just given him a detailed account of his visit to West Point.

The only detail he failed to disclose was that he had coffee with Sean (in the nurse's coffee break), who turned out to be a flirt.

'Yeah, I guess so. Or at least I hope so.' He sighed. 'Well, Finn would have to be really inventive to find a new nook to stuff all the drugs now, and trust me, he's not terribly clever.'

'So you're no longer worried?'

Kurt sat up, crossing his legs.

'No, I'm still worried. But a little bit less. Thank you.'

Blaine frowned.

'What for?'

'You know, for suggesting that to me. To go there.'

'Oh, that. There's nothing to thank for, really.'

Kurt rolled his eyes, slumping back to the cushions.

'Alright. But now I'm thinking I should do something to maybe help him some more. And I have this idea, I just don't know if it's any good.'

A few seconds passed in silence, with Kurt hesitant to continue.

'Go on, I can't tell you if the idea's bad, when I don't know what it is.'

'Right. I was thinking to do a show… a concert at the hospital. Something to lift Finn's spirits. And not just Finn's, others' too. But you know, that could remind him of the good old times in Glee club, and all. Maybe some of the guys could come… but even if not, there's still me and Rachel…'

'And me,' interrupted Blaine.

'What? You really would be up for it?'

'Absolutely.'

Kurt gave him a small grateful smile.

'Then I guess it is a good idea?'

'Yeah, it is.' Unexpectedly, Blaine's face lost its carefree expression, becoming a mixture of sadness and hurt.

Seeing the change in his friend's face, Kurt froze. For a second he felt as if he was looking at himself. A question tried to force its way out his mouth, _What happened to you?_ He studied Blaine's expression for one more moment; he could swear Blaine's eyes were much more glistening than usually. And he clearly averted them from Kurt. There was definitely something on his mind. Something he wasn't keen on sharing.

'Blaine?,' said Kurt quietly.

'Yeah?' His voice was thick from the unshed tears.

'Is something wrong? Is Trent bothering you again?'

His only response was a dismissing wave of a hand. But Kurt knew there had to be something more.

'Just tell me.'

'It's nothing- It's not Trent, he's being nice lately.'

'It's not nothing, I can see that much.' Kurt's voice became much firmer.

Blaine bit his lip, considering whether to tell Kurt everything the story of Finn's PTSD brought back for him. A couple of minutes passed in a silence, with Kurt staring intently at an uncertain Blaine.

'Um- I just- I wish I'd had someone like Finn has you, when I was going through a- a rough patch.'

'A rough patch?' A tinge of doubt sounded in Kurt's voice. 'You mean that someone put you through hell?'

Blaine nodded, gulping to fight back tears.

'I was- um- I was a freshman in high school. And there was that dance I once told you about, a Sadie Hawkins, and, um- That was soon after I came out, you know, and there was one other openly gay guy at school. He was a junior, and a friend. Guess getting shoved into walls makes you bond with people who get shoved too.' He chuckled bitterly. 'Anyway, we agreed to go, as friends to that fucking dance, and- We left early, 'cause they were picking on us. Nothing harmful really, just the usual slurs; we were used to that. So we left, and we were waiting for his dad to come and get us. But- um- there were those guys- our three arch enemies- and they followed us out. They were huge, you know, jocks and all that. We didn't stand a chance.'

He lifted his head to look at Kurt, whose face showed a mixture of pain, sadness and empathy.

'They beat you up?,' Kurt asked in a trembling voice.

Blaine nodded.

'It's just that… When something happens to you… I mean, Finn's lucky to have you all to be there for him.'

Trying to keep the tears that filled his eyes from falling, Kurt reached out to squeeze Blaine's hand. He felt as if the thread of mutual understanding that had formed between them the first moment they met became validated by acknowledging its existence.

So he chose to speak again, never letting go of Blaine's hand.

'You know, in high school, we, the whole Glee club, we were at the lowest rung of the McKinley social ladder. I was pretty much used to being picked on already, because of my voice and all. We were served slushie facials practically every day.'

'Slushies?,' interjected Blaine quietly.

'Yeah, that was the favourite pastime of the McKinley bullies. They'd just throw a whole slushie in your face.' Blaine gaped, shocked and horrified. 'It's like getting bitch slapped by an iceberg.'

A shiver ran down Kurt's spine at the memory of the icy drink trickling down his chest, and washing the sticky chunks out of his hair.

'You could think that I'd be immune to anything, having lived through two years of shit like that, right? But then, I was a junior, and this guy started- just randomly shove me into lockers. Sometimes he added a slur to top it off.' He paused to take a deep breath and steady himself. 'It lasted for _weeks_. I was beginning to be really terrified, and it took _so long_ to gather the courage to fight back.'

'And did you?'

Kurt's face was distorted by the pain those memories evoked.

'At some point I sort of snapped, and- I shoved him back. Not like it really made any difference, you know, he was a jock, a football player, and I'm- you know, what I look like, so… He only said not to push him. And I still don't really know what he meant exactly by that. A couple of days later I was walking home from a friend's house. She lived close enough for me not to drive. It was dark already, but it was so _close_, why would anybody be scared to walk home?' He snorted, shaking his head. 'I was so stupid. And I hated him so much for what he had done to me.'

'Hated?'

'When he was kicking me, he kept on saying "I'm not like you, I don't want to be like you". It was like a mantra, like he was wishing it to come true. I didn't understand it then. They let him go easy, he spent some six months in juvie, then he switched schools. And when I was back in Lima for the summer, I found out that he had tried to kill himself.'

Kurt raised his eyes to look at Blaine through a haze of moisture.

'It turned out all the hate that he directed at me- that was all because he couldn't deal with the fact that he was gay, too. And when I found out that he simply didn't know how to overcome the self-loathing he was feeling, that I had felt myself, I couldn't hate him anymore.'

The room became silent, and the two boys sat there, holding hands, and finally letting the tears fall, knowing no more words were necessary. They understood.

* * *

**A/N:** First off, I hope I'm not boring you yet. Seven more chapters and an epilogue till the finish line.

And personally, I was kinda teary-eyed when I was writing the Furt stuff.

Oh, and please, R&R! I love me some feedback!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Sending out queries whether it was possible for members of the Glee club to come to West Point, Kurt realized that few people knew about Finn's involvement in the blast. Apparently, they either didn't follow news very carefully, or didn't follow it at all.

'Just give me the date, dude, I'll be there,' was Puck's answer – after he'd recovered from the shock that he had no idea about his high school best buddy's condition.

'I was always saying he would blow himself up the first chance he got,' said Santana with her usual sensitivity, and much less surprise than Puck. 'Sure, I'll come.'

Although Kurt was convinced Santana would never admit to that, he knew she still was very grateful to Finn for the support he'd given her after she'd been forced to come out. Santana's insults were just her twisted way of showing affection. Her heart was as big as her mouth.

Others were as sympathetic and supportive, but not quite sure they could come. Apart from Brittany, for whom Santana had already vouched to be there.

Now, there was nothing left for Kurt to do, but find out if his undertaking could succeed at all.

'Hi, do you have a minute?,' he asked Sean the next time he visited the hospital.

Sean lifted his head, and smiled when he saw Kurt.

'A minute, not a second more, unfortunately,' he said apologetically.

'Um, is there any way of organizing a concert on hospital grounds?,' Kurt blurted out.

'A concert? With microphones and musicians?'

Kurt nodded hastily.

'I was thinking I could put something together for my brother- and other soldiers like him- to cheer them up, show them they have people who are there for them, you know? And I hoped that there would be some place here to do that- or at least some equipment-'

Sean took a moment to consider it.

'Well, we have a lecture hall. The stage is tiny, but I don't think you could get an orchestra in here anyway, could you?'

Kurt chuckled.

'No, I'm not that good. I would just need a stage that could hold some six or seven people, and maybe a keyboard or something. What about mikes or amps?'

'I guess there might be something, I don't really know exactly. But I suppose my CO should sign up on this before you seriously get into organizing anything.'

'CO?'

'My commanding officer? The guy who rules this place? You really should get your army lingo down,' teased Sean.

With a slight wave of warmth running to his cheeks, Kurt smiled shyly. He could swear Sean was flirting with him.

'Could you maybe help me with that?,' he asked, making puppy eyes at Specialist O'Donnell.

* * *

Blaine soon became a frequent guest in the Hummel-Berry household, and as frequent a happy guinea pig for Kurt's cooking. When they weren't having coffee and dinner in Greenpoint, Blaine and Kurt often stayed late at NYADA, rehearsing together; to his surprise, the more he sang in Blaine's presence, the less inhibited and embarrassed Kurt felt in those private rehearsal sessions. And Blaine could hardly contain his bliss whenever he got a chance to hear Kurt sing. He almost felt like a silly smitten teenage girl, and wouldn't have admitted to anybody the apparent presence of butterflies in his stomach whenever he heard Kurt's voice or saw his face.

And Rachel often excused herself from spending time with them, claiming she had stuff to do for school. In reality, she didn't want to be a third wheel, and left the two alone on purpose. If she was staying home, with Kurt and Blaine in another room, she eavesdropped on them sometimes. Most times she was disappointed by the content of their conversations, but their bantering and teasing made her smile. Other times she heard them complimenting one another, or sharing more meaningful opinions or memories.

That kept her hopeful. Because she couldn't recall Kurt being this happy around anyone, never in the years they'd known each other.

With Chandler, Kurt was content. Rachel could see back then how Kurt's tough experiences seemed to dull when he was around Chandler. But they never went away completely, not for a second. They never did, constantly lurking somewhere in the shadows behind Kurt's eyes.

And on one of the evenings when Blaine was staying for dinner, Rachel realized that something had changed in her best friend. It must have happened some time prior already, but she never noticed. So she watched Kurt carefully that night.

And finally she saw it. His eyes were brighter than ever. Despite all the dark stuff that was happening to them now, he seemed more alive than ever before.

The shadows behind his eyes were gone.

* * *

'So you're saying you got the green light?,' asked Blaine, cradling his coffee cup in both his hands.

Having coffee in his mouth, Kurt nodded.

'Yeah, everything's settled,' he added. 'The Colonel was actually pretty excited I suggested that. At least he seemed that way, when I got used to the fact that he looks kinda scary.' Kurt shrugged, remembering Colonel Wolfe's face that appeared to have frozen in an irremovable menacing expression, and that bore a deep scar cutting diagonally through his whole left cheek. When he had entered the Colonel's office, Kurt had thought that he really resembled a wolf.

'What's the date, then?'

'Black Friday. Some families will probably be visiting for Thanksgiving, mine will for sure, so I guess it's all fine. And there's still enough time to rehearse.'

Blaine took another sip from his cup, and frowned.

'But wouldn't you rather be shopping on Black Friday, or something?'

'Oh, sweetie, I know better than to go anywhere near a mall on Black Friday,' replied Kurt, faking solemnity. 'I'm a much better shopper than those poor masses of sale hunters.' He tried to keep a straight face, before his lips twitched and he laughed, and Blaine joined in.

'It's amazing how you could get that scary colonel guy to agree to that, and start putting everything together, all by yourself,' Blaine said, once their laughter died out.

'Oh, it wasn't all me, Sean helped me with the Colonel.'

Blaine's eyebrows shot up.

'Sean?,' he asked, his voice suddenly weaker.

'Yeah, he's a nurse at Keller.'

'A nurse, huh?'

Kurt didn't seem to notice an apparent deterioration of Blaine's mood.

'He's really sweet. And he offered to lend a hand before the show and help set up everything.,' Kurt blabbered on. 'It's so nice of him!'

'Sure, that's great.'

A pang of jealousy in Blaine's chest started to become a spinal tap needle of envy boring deep into his heart.

Unexpectedly, Rachel came out of her room, heading for the kitchen.

'Don't mind me, guys, just getting some OJ,' she chirruped, waving her hand dismissively, and eyeing Blaine with curiosity.

While she was pouring the juice into a glass, she glanced at Kurt, who was still stuck in his happy Sean bubble, oblivious to the sudden awkward silence on Blaine's part. But Rachel did not fail to notice that Blaine fixed his gaze in the rug covering the floor, and pursed his lips.

* * *

Having said goodbye to Blaine that evening, Kurt went to his room and settled comfortably on his bed with his computer in his lap. Everyone had to be informed when the show was to take place, so he figured the earlier he starts sending out e-mails, the better.

Before he managed to as much as consider who there was to notify, Rachel stormed into his room and jumped onto the bed next to him.

'Yes, Rachel, you can come in and lie on my bed.'

'So what about that Sean guy, huh?,' she asked, ignoring his remark.

'Eavesdrop much?'

'Oh, come on, Kurtie, I'm your best friend, aren't I? And best friends' main use is being able to talk to them about guys. So, what about that Sean guy?'

Kurt rolled his eyes, setting his laptop aside.

'Nothing about him. He's a nurse at Finn's ward, he's nice, and he helped me get the Colonel on my side. He's his uncle or something.'

'But he's gay, right?'

'Yeah, so what?'

Rachel sighed, and looked Kurt in the eye.

'Nothing. Just be careful. You don't want anyone to get hurt, do you?'

'What? No, of course not!' He frowned. 'What are you even talking about?'

She shook her head, getting up.

'Nothing. I just don't like my friends getting hurt.'

With that, she disappeared behind the door, leaving Kurt thoroughly confounded.

* * *

**A/N:** Another short one, hope you don't mind.

Brace yourselves for some fluff on Saturday! I personally love chapter 10, hopefully so will you. Fingers crossed!

And I'm getting surer and surer about posting the story I'm writing right now on here, in a little while. Probably after ITtH is done. I've just finished writing chapter 5 of that new story (though the chapters there are generally shorter then those in ITtH).

Feedback is much appreciated! Thanks for reading, guys!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The following Saturday Kurt and Rachel set out to West Point to visit Finn – who was starting to finally get better now, as the personnel were keeping a close eye on him to take his medication. His psychiatrist managed to get him to open up, and his physical therapy started for real after the cast was removed from his leg.

Burt and Carole had went to Lima for the weekend, leaving Kurt and Rachel with the obligatory Saturday drive to Keller alone.

In the car, Kurt was unusually chipper, humming along to the _Chicago_ soundtrack he'd plugged into the rental's stereo system. Rachel kept on eyeing him nervously from the passenger seat without saying a word. From time to time he would urge her to join him and sing along, and she even budged, so their voices, combined with those of Renee Zellweger and Catherine Zeta-Jones, filled the car, when they belted out _Nowadays_.

When they reached the hospital and parked the car in the far end of the lot, Kurt noticed a familiar figure walking down the driveway.

'Oh, look, that's Sean!' He patted Rachel on the shoulder and motioned with his head in Sean's direction. 'We should say hi.'

Rachel raised her eyebrows, looking straight at Sean, from whom Kurt was now facing away.

'Um- I don't think it's such a good idea,' she stammered out.

With one snap movement, Kurt swirled around, and his jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and utter disappointment.

At the precise moment when Kurt's eyes fell back on Sean, the nurse approached a gleaming elegant sedan, and an even more elegant handsome man standing next to the car. And a second later, the lips of the two men met for a moment.

And then they got in the car, with radiant smiles on their faces, and Kurt standing bewildered in the middle of the parking lot with his best friend wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

* * *

'Did he ever mention he wanted to ask you out? Did he ever imply it?,' Rachel kept on asking, when they entered the apartment late in the afternoon.

'God, no, Rachel, he didn't.'

Kurt sighed, slumping into the armchair in the living room. He never really thought seriously about dating Sean, but knowing that a cute guy like that was taken made it seem impossible that there could be _any_ cute guy available for him to scoop.

'Come on, Kurt, there are other fish in the sea. There are thousands of eligible gay men all around New York.'

'Right,' Kurt scoffed in response. 'Would you mind ordering dinner tonight? I want to hit the shower before Blaine shows up.'

'Sure. Pizza?'

Kurt grimaced. He gave in to the guilty pleasure of eating pizza rarely enough not to hate himself too much for it.

'Whatever.' And he dragged his feet heading for the bathroom.

* * *

Forty five minutes later the doorbell rang, and Kurt rushed to open the door before Blaine, who glanced at him with surprise.

'Did I ring at the wrong door? The guy who lives here doesn't wear _jeans and t-shirts_.'

Kurt rolled his eyes, taking Blaine's hand to drag him inside.

'He does, when both the jeans and the t-shirt have a decent label, and when his hair's dripping wet,' he replied. 'And also when he's too lazy to cook. I hope you're not allergic to pizza?'

Blaine chuckled.

'No, definitely not.'

'Kurt is also a tiny bit depressed, 'cause his crush turned out to be taken,' cut in Rachel with a smug grin directed at Blaine.

'Rachel! He's not my _crush._' Kurt's cheeks turned scarlet.

'Oh, sorry, it seemed to me that he was.'

Kurt was too busy being mad at Rachel to notice the cheerful smile that appeared on Blaine's face for a split second.

Soon enough the food arrived, and the three spent a lazy hour around the living room table, flicking channels on the TV, and stuffing their mouths with pizza.

And when they were thoroughly bored, Rachel sneaked out to her room, leaving the boys contentedly silent. Until Kurt suggested they look for something to sing at the show at Keller, getting up and leading Blaine into his room for the first time.

It had intrigued Blaine for a while what Kurt's room looked like, but he'd never managed to get a better look at it, only an occasional peek at the fraction visible through the door left ajar. But when he entered the room at last, he felt like he'd already been there a hundred times; it felt familiar because it was so _Kurt_. It was elegant and moderate, with an air of mystery, but simultaneously gentle and cosy. And it smelt like Kurt, with the same refreshing scent that rolled off his skin every time he moved. Blaine could never pinpoint what exactly the smell reminded him of; it was simply Kurt. Nothing smelt the same as him.

The search for the perfect song for the show soon ended, and the two started enthusing over songs entirely inappropriate for the undertaking. Their tastes seemed mostly to overlap, and within a little over an hour they found themselves singing in a surprisingly well-tuned duet.

Blaine struck up the beginning lines of _Animal_, jumping around the room happily, and Kurt soon joined in, both the singing and the improvised dance.

_Say goodbye to my heart tonight_, they finished, and fell backwards to the bed, panting and laughing, even though they were barely able to breathe.

And their eyes met in a long gaze, their laughter and smiles gradually fading, until their breaths were even again. Unlike their heartbeats.

Kurt was the first one to shake out of the oddly comfortable silent conversation.

'What would you say to hot chocolate?,' he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

'Hell, yes.'

'Then I'll go get us some.' He sent Blaine a tentative smile, and hurried to the kitchen, all the while attempting to wrap his mind around what had just happened between them.

But when he returned to the room fifteen minutes later – he dragged the process of making their chocolate as much as he could without raising Blaine's suspicion – slightly dreading what Blaine could have assumed about that strange eye contact thing, he found his friend soundly asleep, sprawled on the bed with his mouth open.

He decided to let Blaine be, and sipped his chocolate, studying his friend's face carefully.

Kurt had never truly paid much attention to Blaine's face, because normally he would stare into those strikingly golden-hazel eyes, and fail to notice anything that surrounded them. Now, when his eyes were closed, Kurt could finally focus on his other features; the ridiculous triangle-shaped eyebrows, the dark eyelashes that usually were no more than a frame, the lips… The few locks of hair that escaped from the carefully gelled mass and fell onto his forehead…

Taking the last sip from his cup, Kurt decided it was a very nice face. Not just handsome, but _pleasant_, even in sleep radiating kindness.

And without waking Blaine up, he lay down next to him.

The last thing Kurt saw before he fell asleep, was Blaine's face.

* * *

At first Blaine couldn't recall where he was. His eyes flickered open to see a room basked only in the light of streetlamps streaming in through the window. And then he looked to his right, and remembered everything.

Kurt was lying next to him, curled up with his hands tucked under his cheek, peacefully asleep. His skin seemed even more pallid in the scanty light, but to Blaine he'd never looked more beautiful, still in the same gray t-shirt and purposefully faded jeans, with no product in his hair.

Blaine shifted, watching Kurt with a small unconscious smile. In this moment it didn't matter to him what would happen when the morning came and they woke up. For this moment of quiet bliss he could put up with the whole awkwardness that can arise from accidentally falling asleep in your crush's bed.

And he drifted back to sleep, never averting his eyes from Kurt's face.

* * *

The sudden silence in the other room made Rachel wonder. She certainly didn't hear the front door close. There was singing, and muffled talking, then shuffling footsteps in the living room, Kurt's door closing… No, she was positive no one left Kurt's room since then. But she also didn't hear voices anymore.

She decided to wait a while in case the boys didn't want to be disturbed.

No new sounds came in the next hour, and Rachel figured she should check on them. So she tiptoed out of her room and to Kurt's door, trying to move as noiselessly as possible.

She pushed the door open, and stuck her head in. The picture she came upon wasn't exactly what she expected.

The boys were lying across Kurt's enormous bed, in a deep undisturbed slumber, with their faces inches apart, their knees practically touching, and their arms almost intertwined. As if their bodies were gravitating towards one another when their consciousnesses had no way of interfering.

When Rachel shut the door behind her, Kurt's hand twitched, unknowingly landing in Blaine's palm.

* * *

Kurt realized a light was shining straight onto his closed eyelids; he wasn't used to that. He blinked, and his vision was flooded with early morning sun. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light and see a face just a couple of inches away from his own. Another moment passed with Kurt taking in the definitely not unpleasant sight of a sleeping Blaine.

And then Kurt remembered what was going on. And what Blaine could assume if he woke up to see him so close.

So Kurt snapped up, holding his breath, and trying to slip off the bed without disturbing Blaine. He needed to back off, so that Blaine wouldn't take it into his mind that they were anything more than friends; he didn't want to lose his friendship.

It was barely seven on a Sunday morning, so Rachel was still asleep, and Kurt headed to the bathroom to perform his skin care routine he abandoned the previous night.

But his skin wasn't the only thing he wanted to set in order; his thoughts were in a mess.

He was sure of one thing: he sincerely cared about Blaine. There had never been a doubt about it. Just like there had never been any doubt about the connection they seemed to have from the second they met.

Kurt's thoughts were swirling in his head, switching randomly from those of their friendship to the image of Blaine's eyes that appeared to be carved in the back of his skull, and reminded him of its existence every other second. He covered his eyes with his hands, trying desperately to concentrate.

But what if that wouldn't be a big deal for Blaine? They were hanging out, they fell asleep, they shared a bed, in the most innocent way possible.

Rachel wouldn't imagine anything if that happened with her, would she? No, she wouldn't, he was positive.

Then why would Blaine?

They were friends, just like him and Rachel, why would he think anything different?

Oh, unless… But no, wouldn't he have said something by now if he wanted to…?

Kurt shook his head at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. No way.

* * *

It was very early for Rachel to wake up on a Sunday. But the tiniest bustle coming from somewhere in the apartment made it impossible for her to go back to sleep. She slipped out from under her sheets, and went out into the living room.

The bathroom door was closed, which told her Kurt had already got up. The door to his room stood open, and a dark-haired boy was still lying sprawled on the bed. But he wasn't asleep.

Blaine rubbed his eyes, and lifted his head, propping himself on his elbows.

'Why am I here?,' he asked, still drowsy.

'Well, don't ask me. I wasn't there.'

The same moment, the bathroom door opened, and Kurt emerged with an uncertain expression on his face.

'Um- good morning,' he stammered.

'So, Kurt maybe you could enlighten Blaine about what happened last night?' She raised her eyebrows, trying to hold back a smug smile.

'Nothing happened.' He paused. 'I mean, Blaine just fell asleep, and I didn't want to wake him.'

Rachel nodded with understanding.

'And, um- where did _you _sleep then? Because Blaine definitely slept here, he couldn't have moved from anywhere, he's still basically blacked out.'

Kurt's cheeks started to burn intensively.

'Um- On the bed,' he mumbled.

'You mean with Blaine?' Rachel faked a shocked tone.

'It's a big bed.'

Blaine was regaining his mental agility.

'Oh, yeah, and sooo comfortable. If I were you, I wouldn't leave it, _ever_, Kurt.'

For some reason, his words made Kurt's thoughts go to a dirty place, and his cheeks were now definitely on fire.

After that embarrassing moment came to a close with Rachel heading to the bathroom, Kurt excused himself and went to the kitchen to make them coffee, and the rest of the morning was spent in an unusually normal atmosphere. Blaine was fed and given coffee, before finally setting out for his dorm.

'I- um- I'm sorry I fell asleep on your bed,' he said already standing in the doorway, grimacing a little. 'I really didn't mean to.'

'I know.' Kurt smiled at him nervously, feeling relief flooding his insides; apparently Blaine didn't read anything into this whole situation.

'See you.'

'Bye.'

* * *

Blaine had barely managed to exit the building, when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, and to his astonishment, saw an unread text from Rachel.

_Don't give up just yet._

His eyes bulged, his jaw dropped, and he quickly looked up, in the direction of the Hummel-Berry kitchen window on the third storey. He was quite sure that he saw a beaming Rachel giving him two thumbs up behind the glass.

_I have no idea what you meant by that,_ he typed hastily, and hit the send button.

A few seconds later his phone buzzed again.

_Right ;)_

* * *

**A/N: **Wow. Chapter 10. Getting close to the end!

A huge thank you for the follows and favourites, and reviews (especially to BlurtItAllOut for reviewing every single chapter!), I'm immensely grateful!

As to the season 4 premiere: I love me some Klaine serenading! Oh, and Burt is such an amazing dad!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The whole trip back to the dorms, Blaine went on autopilot, immersed in a whirl of confused thoughts about the previous night. Their conversations were as comfortable and friendly as ever, that impromptu duet joined their voices together as if they had always been meant to be combined…

He was also more certain about his feelings for Kurt than he'd ever been before. He was falling for him, falling fast and hard. Everything he felt seemed like a bulldozer striking a fragile building. Never before had he felt anything so overpowering, so destructive, but at the same time thrilling, filling him with joy so intense he wanted to scream and laugh and cry every time Kurt was near him.

But as certain as he was about his own feelings, he was unsure of Kurt's. They were friends, who enjoyed each other's company, yes, that was true.

Still, what Blaine wanted from Kurt was definitely _not_ friendship.

What did Rachel mean, though? Blaine wanted to believe that Kurt liked him back, but why wouldn't he say something himself? Then again, Blaine himself hadn't mentioned his crush on Kurt to its object…

He tried not to get his hopes up. But he couldn't help a tiny dreamy smile that crept its way onto his face, and that was still there, when he entered his room.

'Okay, this time you're not going to tell me it wasn't a date,' greeted him Trent, who was sitting at his desk.

Blaine stopped, startled. He'd completely forgotten about his roommate.

'What? Um- No, it wasn't a date.'

Trent raised a querying eyebrow at him.

'Oh, really? So if it wasn't a date, it was just a fuck?'

A flush of red came onto Blaine's cheeks. He attempted to cover up his uneasiness by rolling his eyes.

'No. It's wasn't a date, or a- a _fuck_. I was at Kurt's, and I kinda- fell asleep on his bed.'

'And you're saying you didn't fuck?' Trent was radiating disbelief.

'God, what's wrong with you?,' groaned Blaine. 'No. WE. DID. NOT. FUCK. We're not even boyfriends!'

'Seriously? You're still not together?'

Blaine frowned at him.

'What do you mean, _still_?'

'Come on, it's not like you don't spend more time at his place than here. And it's not like I don't get it, who wouldn't?' He waved his hand at the room, and paused, biting his lip and thinking for a moment. 'And you do like him, right?'

Blaine sighed, sitting on his bed.

'It's that obvious?'

'Duh.'

* * *

'So what about Blaine?'

Kurt didn't get what Rachel meant by asking.

'What about him?'

She traced the rim of her tea mug with her finger, thinking how to reformulate her question.

'Where do you two stand?'

'_We_ don't _stand _anywhere. There's no us, I told you a dozen times already.'

Rachel raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. Another half minute went by in silence.

'Are you sure there's no _you two_?'

'For fuck's sake, Rache! Why are you so insistent about it?'

She shrugged, looking down at him. He wished she wasn't standing over him; it made him feel vulnerable under the Rachel Question Attack.

'I just have a feeling there _could _be _you two_.'

Kurt groaned, putting a pillow over his head.

'Go! Be a matchmaker somewhere else! Get an online dating site. My room is not your office!'

'Okay, I'll go.' She pulled at the pillow, and it slipped out of his grasp. 'Just one more question. Have you ever thought about Blaine that way?'

'No,' answered Kurt hastily.

'Liar.' She threw the pillow back to the bed. 'But if you insist that you haven't… Do that now.'

* * *

On Monday afternoon Kurt was waiting for Blaine at the front entrance, trying strenuously not to act any differently to all the other times they went out for coffee. Despite his attempts at ignoring Rachel's words, his mind seemed determined to bring Blaine back into focus. And finally Kurt gave into the nagging of his best friend's and that of his own brain, and considered his opinions on Blaine.

Yes, he definitely thought Blaine was cute; he was a kind soul, he was sexy, and had incredible eyes. Even thinking about him made Kurt's chest warm up from within. He enjoyed every second he got to spend with Blaine. The understanding between them was extraordinary; a welcome change after twenty years of being convinced there was not a person in the entire world that could ever truly get him.

And having thought all his conclusions over as thoroughly as he could, Kurt decided that he simply wanted to keep Blaine's friendship. There was no guarantee an attempt at forming a relationship wouldn't screw everything up. He'd already failed to part ways with a boyfriend in a civilized manner, and was far from willing to repeat that.

Especially with Blaine.

Blaine showed up, exhausted after his dance class, but smiling goofily at Kurt, who grinned slightly nervously in response. They exchanged greetings, and started in the direction of their usual coffee shop, their step ideally synchronized. They didn't say much on the way, but conversation wasn't really necessary.

Once at the coffee shop, they took a place at the end of the line. Then Blaine broke the persisting silence.

'Um- You're really not mad about that unintended sleepover thing, right?'

Kurt's hands suddenly seemed much more sweaty; like he was keeping them in a basin full of water.

'Yeah. Why would I be mad? We're friends, right? It's fine.' Keeping his voice level was a difficult task, but he somehow managed.

'Friends, yeah, sure.' Blaine paused, dropping his chin a little. 'Is it really what we are? Friends?' His head snapped up.

A wave of terror washed over Kurt. So here it was. Apparently not only Rachel had this ludicrous idea of _the two of them_ in their minds.

'Yes, we're friends, what else would we be?' He rushed out the words, his heartbeat quickening frantically.

Blaine looked away, visibly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.

'Well, it's not about the whole sleepover thing… It's more about everything else… You know my coffee order, we hang out _all the time_, we sing flirty duets…'

He peered hopelessly into Kurt's eyes; he could swear the depth of the blue-green irises could swallow him whole, and never cough him back out.

Kurt flushed, instinctively loosening his tie; the coffee shop became unbearably hot, as if the golden hazel eyes were spreading a fantastical warmth over him.

'Blaine, I really, really care about you,' he said quietly. 'I just don't want to screw it up.'

His lips twitched as he tried to give Blaine a reassuring smile, and failed miserably.

Blaine took a deep breath. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. But, well, it could have been so much worse.

'Oh. Okay. So it's just like _When Harry Met Sally_. I'll let you play Meg Ryan.' He sent Kurt a sheepish grin.

Relief started coming over Kurt, and then his breath hitched.

'Don't they get together in the end?'

But Blaine never got a chance to answer; they'd just reached the counter.

* * *

The next day Rachel caught up with Blaine after Madame Tibideaux's class. The way he looked that day seemed off; he wasn't sad, or upset, not really. Only she couldn't recall when she'd last seen him so quiet, so oddly tranquil. It almost felt like… resignation?

'Hey, Blaine, wait.'

He spun around; Rachel could swear he'd wanted to get away before she could stop him. She felt a pang of guilt somewhere in her chest.

'Yeah?'

'I just-' She looked down, feeling silly for getting between him and Kurt. 'I just wanted to ask, is everything fine? You seem a little- um- strange today.

Blaine shook his head. It was a curious feeling, to have someone you've known for such a short while, and not even very well, pick up on your moods so easily. Or maybe his increasing heartache was much more obvious than he'd thought? He couldn't be sure.

'It's- It's nothing, Rache.'

She appraised him with her gaze; it couldn't be nothing. Nothing doesn't switch off sparks in anybody's eyes.

'Come on, Blaine, talk. I pride myself on being a very good listener.'

'Seriously, don't worry about me,' he insisted. People were passing them in the hallway, and he felt more and more uncomfortable, twitching and tapping his foot impatiently.

She must have noticed his uneasiness and led him to a window nearby, away from the crowd of students.

'It's about Kurt, right?,' she asked, her voice tentative and quiet. 'Did you have a fight or something?'

Blaine laughed at the irony of the situation. No, they did not have a fight. They were as friendly as ever. The coffee they had yesterday was filled with lively conversation and cheerfulness. He even forgot for the time everything Kurt had told him in the line earlier. But once Kurt went home, and he was alone with his thoughts, it hit him: there wasn't anything more to expect from Kurt. They'd never become anything more than friends, this was it. And Blaine simply had to get over that.

'No. We didn't have a fight. We're perfect _friends_.'

'Oh.' She hesitated. 'Did you two- like- talk? About _you_? The two of you, I mean.'

There was no point in refusing to answer; Rachel seemed to be reading him like a book, flicking to the precise pages she was interested in.

'Sort of.'

'And?,' she pressed, realizing after a few seconds he wouldn't tell her anything without being forced into it.

'And nothing.' Blaine shrugged, trying to get her off his chest. But his voice had to betray he wasn't indifferent about the matter at all.

Rachel nodded slowly, deep in thought. He took an advantage of her silence, and started to walk away.

'Blaine?,' she stopped him again, and he turned once more, even more unwillingly than before. 'Kurt is- Kurt hates hurting people. And I guess he thinks that he would hurt anyone he'd get involved with. I don't know many things- There is loads of stuff he never told me, stuff he doesn't want to talk about- But I know him more than he thinks. Maybe sometimes even better than he knows himself. And what I know better than him is that- He became someone new since he met you. It's not that he's not Kurt anymore. He's still Kurt, but… It's like he's a _better _Kurt, you know? He's happier than I've ever seen him. It's like you came and took away everything that's been keeping his happiness always at arm's length… Really, really close, but right outside of his reach. And I know that after how he ended things with Chandler, he doesn't want to get involved, because he's afraid he'd hurt someone- That he'd hurt _you_.'

She paused, looking straight into Blaine's eyes. He didn't speak; the whirl of thoughts in his brain turned into an even greater mess than it had already been.

'You do like him, don't you?'

Blaine was only able to nod infinitesimally.

'Then don't think it's all done. Don't let go this easily.' She tried smiling at him, but his eyes were fixed somewhere over her head. 'I'm going to hug you now.'

He gave another nod, and felt her small arms encircling him for a few seconds.

And then she left.

* * *

Blaine's thoughts were so preoccupied with Kurt and what Rachel had told him, he barely knew he went to the rest of his classes that day. Reality passed him by in a blur, leaving him with only an awareness of its presence, without actually experiencing anything. He couldn't tell what was happening, anything that was required of him, he did automatically, while his brain struggled to get his thoughts in order.

But it was impossible, when every clearer thought got distracted by the image of Kurt that seemed to never wane in his mind.

Whenever he did manage to think straight, even for a second, Kurt's words rang within his head, followed by Rachel's. Their words fought in his mind, playing some ridiculous game of tag of war, making his head spin and throb unbearably.

And then he went out the main door just to see the beaming face, and the sparkling blue-green eyes of the perfect man waiting for him.

And suddenly Blaine's head felt completely in order.

Just seeing Kurt made everything right; there was no confusion, no more aches. Because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was this: he loved Kurt. And no matter if Kurt wanted him, or not, the best thing Blaine could do as his friend is be there for him. And if that ever led to something more – hell, he'd be the happiest man in the world.

He smiled back at Kurt.

* * *

**A/N:** First off, every form of feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you all so soooo much for follows, favs, reviews. I didn't think I'd get any of those, and yet, here you all are, following my story!

Second thing, hope you still don't have the urge to go unfollow ITtH. That is, I hope you still kinda like it.

And lastly, look out for an update on Saturday!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

'What did you tell Blaine?'

Rachel stuck her head into Kurt's room. He was sitting at his desk, looking up from his laptop.

'What about?'

'About you two.'

He groaned.

'Rachel, _again_ with this?'

'Well, yes. What did you tell him?'

Kurt turned around in his chair, trying to postpone his answer and formulate it carefully.

'I- I told him that I care about him. And that I value his friendship.'

She pursed her lips, leaning her head on the doorframe.

'That's definitely what a hot guy wants to hear from another hot guy.'

'Crap, Rachel, what do you think I _should have_ told him, then?'

He was getting more and more annoyed by his friend's attempts at matchmaking; it wasn't making him any keener on pursuing Blaine. And he didn't want to pursue him, anyway.

'You didn't have to tell him anything. But you could have used your mouth for something else.' She shrugged.

'Okay. I guess I'm done talking to you.' Kurt stood up, and pushed Rachel out the door. 'Now I want peace and quiet. Bye.'

The door shut close a few inches from Rachel's face.

* * *

The next couple of weeks Kurt spent trying to take care of the preparations for the show at Keller. He asked around NYADA in search for people to play as a backing band, e-mailed all the former Glee-clubbers a hundred times to make sure who would make it to West Point, and who wouldn't, designed the poster for the show, got a couple dozen copies printed, and hung all over the hospital, and all the while never missed a class, and cooked dinners almost every evening.

But the multiplicity of things occupying him made it impossible for him to hang out with Blaine as much as either of them would wish. The few times they went out for coffee after classes, which had become usual for them, Kurt could barely stay off his cell phone, sending e-mails and calling half the time.

Rachel tried to force Kurt to pass part of the long list of things to be done to her, but he wouldn't budge. After a few failed attempts, she started wondering, whether he didn't want to do everything by himself so he could have an excuse to stay away from Blaine.

And partly, she was right. Because as much as Kurt enjoyed being with Blaine, he was getting tired of Rachel bugging him about their relationship. How could he tell her they were just friends, when she kept on denying that piece of information?

But deep down, Kurt admitted to himself that he was beginning to miss Blaine. They still met in the hallways at NYADA sometimes during the day, and went for the quick coffee later, only it seemed to be not enough.

The dose of Blaine he was getting was not enough to kill the growing longing.

It still didn't make him change his mind; he and Blaine were Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal in _When Harry Met Sally_, only without getting together. He was absolutely positive that he needed Blaine's friendship. Obviously, he had Rachel, and loved her like the sister he never had, but he needed a friend that would be _like him_. And Blaine was, Rachel wasn't, not in the way he needed. Anything more would disturb their friendship.

And Kurt simply wouldn't dare disturb the universe.

So when they were starting rehearsing for the show, Kurt was excited to hang out with Blaine again as much as he used to.

He had pulled some strings, using his charm and the teachers' fondness of him to get a room at NYADA for their rehearsals. Santana and Puck, who had volunteered to prepare songs as well, couldn't come to New York for two weeks just to practice. Kurt, however, made sure they sent him their music choices and the band were to learn their parts.

The first rehearsal took place on a Monday towards the middle of November. Setting everything up, plugging in instruments and scheduling the next practice sessions took a good half hour of Kurt trying to get everyone to focus, and another quarter of actually organizing everything.

Then the band started practicing playing Blaine's song, and Kurt went out for a while to make some phone calls. He had to make sure he would have a few more posters ready before Carole set off for West Point the next afternoon, so she could take them with her (she and Burt had returned to NYC the previous week, and she resumed her frequent visits to the hospital).

When Kurt slipped back into the room, the band seemed to have got Blaine's song down, and they were starting to play it. He sat down in one of the chairs standing in the far end of the room, opposite Blaine, who took the spot at the microphone.

The music started. And then Blaine began to sing.

Kurt fixed his gaze on him, mesmerized.

Blaine's voice made the hairs on his arms stand on ends, sent shivers running down his spine, his fingers and toes tingling… His heart sped up like a racing horse running for the finish line. He couldn't move, not even his eyes, barely breathing, just enough not to suffocate.

_So I run now to the things they said could restore me, restore life the way it should be_…

The song ended, and Kurt sat there, unmoving, as if someone turned him to stone, until Rachel came up to him, asking what they were to do next.

He couldn't hear her. All there was in the world in that moment for him, was the beautiful boy walking away from the microphone stand with a shy smile and his eyes down.

'Kurt!' Rachel patted him on the shoulder, finally getting him out of his reverie.

'Yeah?'

'I was asking if maybe we could do my song now?'

Without a second's thought, he agreed, his brain still overwhelmed by the sensation he'd just experienced.

Because for the few minutes he felt like he was looking at Blaine for the first time. For the few short minutes Blaine wasn't Blaine the friend. He was just this beautiful boy with the deep hazel eyes, and a slim body, and a stunning voice, who was simply _nice_ and kind-hearted. It seemed to Kurt that up until that moment, there was a film over his eyes that blurred his vision of Blaine. And now it was removed, and everything about Blaine was sharp and clear. How attractive he was, how beautiful, inside and out.

The practice session soon ended, Kurt having excused himself with a sore throat. His throat was fine, but his thoughts were so confused he wasn't sure he could remember all the lyrics to his song, and wasn't willing to make a fool out of himself.

And he desperately needed some alone time to put his mind in order.

Or rather his heart.

* * *

'You're awfully quiet tonight,' Rachel remarked over dinner.

They were alone, Burt and Carole were supposed to eat at Keller with Finn.

'Hm?' Kurt's head snapped up. His thoughts were far from Greenpoint.

'So you're not just quiet. You're _pensive_. What are you thinking about?'

This time he made an effort to listen to her.

'Nothing. Stuff.'

Rachel raised an eyebrow.

'Which one is it then? Can't be both.'

'Nothing.'

She cast an appraising look over him, squinting.

'Okay. If you say so.'

The rest of the evening passed in an almost complete silence between them. Kurt kept his pensiveness up, and Rachel kept on eyeing him with suspicion, trying to figure out what was the matter with him.

The apartment was unusually still that night, for which Kurt was thankful. If Rachel was her normal loud, chattering self, he wouldn't have been able to concentrate on the mess that was his mind. And he wouldn't have been able to make a decision.

And probably one particular image wouldn't have crept into his thoughts, out of nowhere, making his heart beat fast and unevenly, and his breath hitch.

But once the image entered his mind, all was decided; no more thinking was required, no more deliberating necessary. He had waited the whole twenty years of his life for something like that to happen.

* * *

He planned it out in details.

He knew NYADA tended to become almost completely deserted on Friday afternoons. He also knew Blaine had no other plans for that day after classes. So he asked him to stay at the school after hours to go over their vocal parts for the Keller show.

Blaine said yes without hesitation. He even seemed positively excited for it; he hadn't heard Kurt's song for the concert yet, and hadn't heard him sing at all since the duet they improvised before he unintentionally fell asleep at Kurt's place.

Kurt asked to meet him in their rehearsal room, and Blaine showed up first, entering the almost empty, dim-lit room.

The only reason Kurt was running late was the obligatory pre-date visit to the nearest bathroom with a mirror – a ladiesroom. For some inexplicable reason, the mensrooms at NYADA lacked mirrors, which was preposterous, considering the male part of the student body spent an equal amount of time in from of them, as their female classmates. It wasn't then uncommon for boys to be spotted in the girls' bathrooms.

Kurt quickly ran his fingers through his hair, making sure it didn't fall apart since morning, and applied some more hairspray on it. He flossed his teeth, and readjusted his scarf. One more critical glance in the mirror, and he was off, heading for the rehearsal room with his heart in his throat.

The sounds of a piano reached him from outside the door. He took one deep breath, and pulled the handle.

Blaine looked up from the keyboard, and smiled at him.

'You really couldn't wait until the next practice session?,' he asked jokingly. 'We all know you're going to be perfect anyway.'

A nervous smile twitched on Kurt's lips.

'I couldn't wait. I- I needed an extra session. Just you and me. I wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.'

Blaine's forehead furrowed in confusion. What exactly was it that Kurt was aiming at?

His surprise grew even stronger, when Kurt sat down beside him on the bench by the piano.

'When I heard you sing in the last rehearsal…,' Kurt started hesitantly, looking down at his hands. 'There is a moment when you realize there's something you've always waited for- looked for- And then I had that moment- with you.'

He raised his eyes to drown them in the hazel depths of Blaine's.

For a moment they both sat silently, motionlessly. Blaine froze with a small disbelieving smile on his lips. They almost forgot to breathe, lost in each other's eyes.

Until Kurt's eyes flickered down to Blaine's lips, before he leaned towards them, cradling Blaine's cheek in his hand.

And when their lips met, Kurt's heart speeding faster than ever, he knew this wasn't a mistake. It wouldn't disturb anything.

How could he even think being with Blaine would make anything worse? The universe had been disturbed, up until that second; and when Kurt's lips fell on Blaine's, it was finally falling into place. Everything that was missing was suddenly found.

They parted, Kurt turning awkwardly away from Blaine, who stayed where he was with a silly grin on his face.

'We should- We should practice,' Kurt mumbled.

'I thought we were,' choked out Blaine, reaching to turn Kurt's face back to his own.

And they kissed impatiently and hungrily, like they'd been waiting ages for this moment to arise.

'You didn't really want to rehearse, did you?,' muttered Blaine less than an inch from Kurt's mouth.

'Nope, not really.'

He opened his eyes just to see Blaine's sparkling hazel ones right in front of him. For a second he forgot about everything that wasn't those eyes. And then Blaine kissed him again, a little too eagerly.

And they tumbled to the ground, along with the heavy bench, Blaine landing over Kurt on the floor. For a few seconds they looked at each other, before bursting into laughter, Blaine burying his face in Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt encircled Blaine with his arms, inhaling the air that intensely smelled of Blaine.

'Wanna get out of here?,' he asked.

Blaine looked at him, questioningly.

'Where to?'

'Central Park?'

'I love Central Park.'

'I know.'

They scrambled up from the floor, Kurt stealing one more kiss, before he slipped his fingers through Blaine's, and they left, both happy beyond words.

* * *

**A/N:** Yay! The boys got together finally! Hope I didn't disappoint you with how it happened.

There's obviously a lot "borrowed" from Original Song. And there's a _Blackbird _reference, and a T.S. Eliot one.

And thank you for all the feedback!

Oh, and one more thing: tomorrow I'm starting to post my new Klaine story, _Letters from Somewhere_. So, if you're interested, look it up tomorrow!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

'Finally, Kurtie! I thought you wanted me to starve…'

Rachel paused with the door handle still in her hand, when she saw Kurt wasn't alone. And then her eyes narrowed into slits, as she appraised the boys. Something had changed; was it their faces, or the almost non-existent distance between their bodies, or the fact that they seemed to try very hard not to hold hands…?

She raised her hand to stop them from speaking.

'Wait. Are you two…?'

Kurt rolled his eyes, taking Blaine by the hand and leading him in, past Rachel.

'I KNEW IT!,' she squealed excitedly, jumping around the room.

'Shut it, Rache.'

'Well, at least I don't have to worry about your best friend not liking me,' teased Blaine.

'I guess I'd prefer that.'

Rachel stopped prancing, out of breath.

'Oh, guys, I'm SOOOO happy for you,' she panted out, catching Blaine in a hug.

'Yeah, we know, thanks for your blessing,' muttered Kurt, when she proceeded to embrace him.

'I'm such a good matchmaker!,' she exclaimed, heading for her room.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other and laughed out loud.

* * *

Kurt closed the door behind him and turned back to Blaine. It never occurred to him that once that door was shut, the situation would automatically change, becoming much more _serious._ They had been together in his room, alone, just like this time, but then they would barely touch. Not to mention lips meeting, and hands wandering in not-so-appropriate directions.

Blaine stopped in the middle of the room, apparently as confused as Kurt.

'So… What are we doing?,' asked Kurt uncomfortably. 'I mean- I know there's a bed and all that-' He was quite sure his cheeks matched his scarlet walls in colour. 'Shit. I'm really bad at this.'

Taking a step towards him, Blaine smiled at Kurt, and put his arms around him.

'We're not gonna rush into anything. Unless we both want to,' he added mischievously.

'Great.' Kurt gave Blaine a peck on the lips. 'Cuddling?'

'Cuddling. Lots of cuddling.'

'How about kissing?' Kurt's eyes glinted.

'Oh yeah.'

Soon enough they were settled comfortably on the pillows, snuggling cosily together. When their lips weren't busy with kisses, they stayed frozen in content little smiles. Until Blaine broke the silence.

'Kurt?'

'Hm?'

'Can I ask you something?' There was a tone of hesitation in his voice.

'Of course you can,' he said into Blaine's cheek that suddenly became strangely hot.

'Um- are you- um- Are you a virgin?'

'Depends how you look at it. You?'

'Same.'

Kurt sat up in one snap movement.

'Okay. Can we establish, how we look at it, then?'

'Right. So what have you-?'

'No, you go first,' Kurt mumbled.

'Okay. Blowjobs.'

'Uh. Same.'

'But did you- or-?' The degree of Blaine's mortification was now as high as Kurt's.

'Both.' Kurt barely moved his lips.

'Okay. Same.'

'Great then. We're equally inexperienced.' Relief seemed to wash over him, and the atmosphere of embarrassment was dissolving. 'I bet you didn't have as bad experiences with- you know- as I did.'

Blaine laughed.

'I doubt that. Remember when I told you about that guy from Dalton, Sebastian?'

'Oh, right, insensitive jerk. Okay, maybe your experience was as bad, but it couldn't have been worse. That level of awkwardness is unattainable for most representatives of homo sapiens.'

He sent Blaine a smile and snuggled to him again.

'I'm glad we agree on not rushing things. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself at the start.'

* * *

'Blaine?'

Kurt was watching his boyfriend's profile, propped on his elbows.

'Hm?'

'What are you doing on Thanksgiving, anyway? I mean, you're not going back to Ohio, because there's the show the next day, so… What are you doing? Are your parents coming or something?'

Blaine shifted to look straight into Kurt's face.

'No. I'm just staying, because- well, it's not much of a family holiday at the Andersons'.'

'What? Why?'

Blaine grimaced.

'I don't know. My parents work too much to really put together a family dinner, so there's never a homemade turkey, or cranberry sauce, or whatever.'

'That sucks.'

Silence fell for a few minutes. Blaine pulled Kurt closer to himself and began tracing his fingers over Kurt's jaw line.

'You're not spending Thanksgiving alone.'

'No?'

Kurt shook his head.

'No. You're invited to the Hudson-Hummel-Berry family dinner in Greenpoint, New York City.' He beamed at him.

'Seriously? You want me to come to your family holiday dinner?' Blaine raised his eyebrows.

'Oh yes. You have to meet the family at some point.'

'Yeah. Like, in a couple of years.'

Kurt chuckled.

'Right. As if I'd ever agree to that.'

He leaned in for a kiss, but Blaine stopped him an inch from his lips by speaking again.

'Wait a second. How many people are coming for dinner on Thanksgiving?'

'Um- It's going to be me, you, Dad, Carole, Finn, Rachel, her dads, Santana, Brittany, Puck…' He held up his right hand, counting on his fingers. 'That'd be… eleven?'

'And how exactly are you planning to fit them all at your kitchen table?'

Kurt's eyes bulged.

'Shit. That's a really good question.'

* * *

A bustle at the front door woke Blaine up in the morning. It took him a shorter while to realize where he was this time, especially when he felt the warmth of Kurt's body snuggled up to his right side.

And then the door to Kurt's room opened, and a bulky bald man entered, just to fall back a step at the sight of _two_ boys instead of one in the large bed. _So here we go_, thought Burt, trying not to overreact. He knew it would happen sooner or later. He just would have preferred it was _later_. Much, much later.

'Hi.'

'Um- Hi?,' replied Blaine faintly. He patted Kurt slightly on the shoulder. 'Kurt? Wake up.'

Kurt twitched, and lifted his head a couple of inches.

'Wha-? Oh, hi.' A goofy drowsy grin appeared on his face and he started leaning towards Blaine's face.

'Kurt,' said Blaine, motioning with his head in the direction of the door.

Kurt turned his head hastily.

'Dad!' Terror crept onto his face, and he started covering himself up more firmly with the duvet, even though both him and Blaine were fully clothed – as they had been the entire night.

'Hi, _kid_. Won't you introduce us?'

Blaine felt blood draining from his face; his mortification was growing with each step Mr Hummel was taking in their direction.

'Um- Dad, this is Blaine- Blaine, this is my Dad, Burt.' Kurt kept his eyes down, too embarrassed to look in his father's face.

Burt extended his hand to shake Blaine's, with a serious expression.

'Nice to meet you, Blaine.' A pause. 'And I wish we met under different circumstances.'

'Believe me, sir, so do I,' Blaine choked out, while Kurt buried his red face in the sheets.

'Kurt? You coming to West Point with us?'

He was able to respond only with a nod.

'Um- Okay, so- We're waiting for you.' With that, Burt backed out of the room, trying hard not to think about what could have happened in that ridiculously huge bed.

* * *

The car drives to West Point had stopped being hours of awkward silence, since Finn was getting better with each day. But this morning Kurt felt as if everybody's attention was directed at him, and it made him highly uneasy. He could sense Rachel's eyes glued to him, and the smile that appeared to have not peeled off her face since the previous night. Carole kept on glancing around from the passenger seat, trying to keep her lips from twitching up, and Burt was much more focused on the road than was natural for him.

They were just passing through Highland Falls, when Carole finally turned around.

'Rachel, honey, is that boy Kurt's dating the one you once mentioned?,' she asked, faux-casually.

'The very same,' came Rachel's answer in a sing-song voice.

Kurt rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to tell one or the other off. It was pointless, anyway; Rachel had been right after all.

* * *

The following days slipped by, longs hours consumed by classes, rehearsals, coffee dates (spent with their hands clasped together on the table), and cuddling. Kurt and Blaine were together in every moment they could find, exchanging thousands of kisses (including some stolen in the NYADA hallways), and trying not to explode from the overwhelming happiness.

Rachel was very careful not to get in their way too much, and began making trips to West Point whenever she had a free afternoon, even though she had to spend more time driving than at the hospital with Finn.

But Kurt was glad she was doing that. It was good for Finn to have someone around, and it didn't always have to be his mother. And Kurt hoped that the time spent together will bring the two closer again; he'd never stopped believing Rachel and Finn weren't finished. As much drama as those two have had in the years they'd known each other couldn't simply go to waste.

And Kurt could see that with each visit, Rachel was returning home with a wider grin, sharing more and more good news about Finn's condition. Whenever he went to West Point, he could verify it on his own, and discovered that his brother was truly doing much better. Finn's eyes regained some of their former twinkle, and that typical Finn smile began to reappear, even if for a few seconds once in a while. Finn was coming back.

During the rare moments, when Kurt and Blaine were together, but weren't joined at the lips, they were trying to find a way to squeeze the whole Thanksgiving party in the Greenpoint apartment for dinner. Finally, they managed to borrow a couple of tables and some mismatched chairs from some neighbours who were spending the holiday at their families', and the only concern Kurt was left with, was the food preparation.

Kurt was in charge of most of the kitchen duties, leaving Carole to prepare the pumpkin pie – or rather pies, as Kurt emphasized that they had a whole soccer team to feed, and Finn would probably like a few extra pieces of the dessert, as he usually did during family gatherings.

On the day before Thanksgiving, Kurt and Blaine went to Greenpoint straight from NYADA, without stopping for coffee. They got groceries on the way, and got to preparing the food for the family dinner, while Rachel went to pick up Santana, Brittany and Puck from the airport. Thankfully, their flights were supposed to land within half an hour from each other, and only one trip to JFK was necessary. Mr Berrys were to arrive the next morning, and Rachel insisted they could find their way on their own, so she could accompany Kurt and his parents in their trip to West Point to get Finn out of the hospital for the day.

The clatter and buzz of voices announced the airport party before they even reached the second storey landing. Kurt took a break from drawing the turkey to say hello to his friends. Blaine was watching him all the while, with a dreamy smile on his face.

Rachel was the first to come in.

'We're here!,' she called from the door.

'Yeah, Rache, we know since you were on the second floor.'

She sent him a glare, and made way for the rest. Santana and Brittany were carrying a huge suitcase each, and Puck followed them with a duffle bag and a guitar case.

'Nice place, ladyface,' said Santana, taking a glance around, and approaching Kurt to hug him.

Brittany stayed a little behind, gazing hazily at the room.

'Too bad I didn't take Lord T. He loves purple,' she said. Blaine frowned, looking questioningly at Kurt.

'_Her cat_,' Kurt mouthed in response over Santana's shoulder. 'Nice to see you, guys.' He smiled widely at Puck and Brittany.

Santana let him go, and turned to Blaine.

'Hm, the boyfriend I presume.' Her eyes slid from the tip of his carefully gelled head to his toes. 'Well, not bad, but he's kinda short.'

Kurt had described his friends to Blaine, so her behaviour did not shock him very much.

'You're not very tall yourself,' Blaine replied. 'And the name's Blaine, as much as _boyfriend_ sounds great.'

Kurt chuckled; those two were an even match, and he could already see them getting along.

Meanwhile Puck wandered into the kitchen, and began to nibble on the carrots Kurt had prepared for the stuffing.

'Are you like staying here all the time?, he asked Blaine with his mouth full. ''Cause, you know, we're supposed to sleep here for the next couple of nights, and it might get crowded. And as much as I may like Kurt, I'm not sleeping with the two of you.'

Both Blaine and Kurt blushed, and Santana rolled her eyes.

'Prudes,' she muttered.

'No, I live in the NYADA dorms, you don't have to worry about that.' Blaine smiled nervously.

Puck nodded, eyeing him.

'Anyway,' Kurt interjected, 'Brittany and Santana, you're getting the couch. It's a sofa bed, I hope that's okay?' At their synchronized nods, he continued. 'Puck, you're getting Rachel's bed.'

'Sweet.'

'Not like that!,' said Rachel indignantly. 'I'm sleeping with Kurt.'

Santana barked out a laugh, provoking Rachel to send her a murderous glare.

Brittany propped her elbows on the high counter, scrutinizing the bird Kurt was preparing for the holiday dinner.

'Why don't turkeys look like Turkey? Why would they be called that if they don't?'

Everyone ignored her, except for Blaine, who found her strangely fascinating. It was like she was an alien who'd just landed on planet Earth and marveled at every detail of everything she saw.

Kurt got engaged in a conversation with Santana and Rachel, while Brittany kept on staring at the featherless and half-gutless dead bird, and Blaine was watching her study the shape of the turkey.

'Hey, Kurt's boyfriend,' muttered Puck, startling him by sneaking up to his side.

'Blaine.'

'Right.' He looked down at Blaine, obviously with the intent to intimidate him. 'You do anything to Kurt, and I mean _anything_ bad, and we're gonna have a problem. You got me?' Blaine nodded, not averting his gaze from Puck even for a second. 'Remember, one thing, and-' He took another bite of the carrot he had in his hand to be more dramatic, as if the vegetable represented Blaine, and the chewed off bit was his head.

'Gotcha.'

Blaine didn't know what to think; the situation was ridiculous, but slightly scary at the same time, especially considering that Puck was a good few inches taller and much more brawny than himself. Ultimately he assumed it only showed that Puck was a real friend to Kurt, who didn't want him to get hurt.

And having watched them all together – Kurt, Rachel, Puck, Santana and Brittany – he decided Kurt had been right they were a lot like family. They bickered, they teased, they laughed, but there was so much _more_. A sort of unconditional love bonding them more tightly than they truly realized. But it was tangible in this family gathering of sorts, and Blaine found himself smiling, before he stepped out of the kitchen to join them.

* * *

**A/N: **_ITtH_ recently passed 100 follows, which is incredible and unexpected for me, and THANK YOU SO MUCH for all this. Posting this story wouldn't be a pleasure at all, if I didn't know you're all there somewhere reading it.

Um, I hope the chapter wasn't boring and that I didn't screw up any of the characters (Santana, Brittany and Puck, I mean - Brittany was particularly tough to write.) And the "are-you-a-virgin" conversation was inspired by a somewhat similar scene in the amazing fic _A Parade of Elephants_ by mrssosostris. If you haven't read it yet, go and do it!

Next update on Saturday! It's only two chapters and the epilogue till the end!

In the meantime I'll probably update _Letters from Somewhere_, and there's another fic I just started writing, entitled - at least for now - _Unintended_, which is yet again a slightly different Klaine story, obviously. I'm being surprisingly prolific fic-wise lately.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Early the next day Rachel, Burt and Carole took off to get Finn, while Kurt and Puck stayed at the apartment, preparing the tables and the food (though it would be more truthful to say that Kurt was cooking and Puck was trying to snatch and eat as much of the food as possible). Brittany and Santana went for a walk around Greenpoint, promising to come back before Finn's arrival.

Before noon Blaine came, distracting Kurt with a kiss for long enough for Puck to dip his finger in the cranberry sauce without the cook noticing.

Soon after, there was a knock on the door, and the beaming faces of Mr Berrys appeared. Although they were a little disappointed their daughter left them without a guide, they were quite understanding of her motivations.

'Young love,' sighed Hiram. 'Do you think they're going to marry after all, Kurt?'

'Oh, yes. It's just a matter of time.'

When the girls came back, giggling and holding hands, they were greeted by hugs, kisses on the cheeks and a flood of compliments.

'Santana, beautiful as always!,' said LeRoy. 'You too, Brittany.'

'The rest couldn't come?,' asked Hiram.

'No. Quinn and Artie are too busy with their college stuff, Tina and Mike have some big Asian family gathering, Mercedes is recording _her album_,' Kurt emphasized, 'and there was something about the studio schedules…'

A catching-up session followed, just to be interrupted by another knock on the door, that this time revealed Burt, Carole and Rachel, who were helping Finn walk on crutches.

'So I assume you're still completely uncoordinated,' Santana greeted him.

And Finn smiled. Uncertainly and fleetingly, but he did, without a doubt.

All was well.

* * *

The dinner was served and eaten, the food complimented. Warmth and thankfulness were spreading thickly along the three uneven tables put in a long line that went through the whole length of the living room. Toasts were proposed and drunk. Cheerfulness pervaded, and even Finn seemed happy.

'I'd like to just say how thankful I am that all of you came here,' he said, standing up unsteadily with a glass of orange juice in his hand. 'And to Kurt, for putting everything together, Thanksgiving, the show at Keller, everything. And most of all, I'm just grateful that I'm alive.' The mood became more solemn; Carole started wiping her eyes with her napkin. 'And it's kinda a crappy toast, it should be booze, but I'm on drugs, so forgive me that.'

And they laughed heartily, with tears still glistening in a few pairs of eyes. A huge sniff came from the opposite end of the table, where Puck was sitting.

The holiday dinner ended early, and Finn was driven back to the hospital with the same entourage as the one that brought him to Greenpoint. Kurt collected the dishes to wash them, while Brittany and Santana took to packing the leftovers – although they seemed to be spending much more time stealing kisses. Finally, Blaine and Puck could remove the tables and chairs that occupied most of the center of the room.

And when all was clean and tidy, Kurt led Blaine by the hand to his room, and landed a kiss on his lips the second the door closed.

'Do you know what I am most thankful for this year?,' he asked, leaning his forehead on Blaine's.

'Yeah?'

'You.'

Blaine's heart skipped a beat just to resume working twice as fast, when Kurt's mouth touched his once more.

'I'm thankful for you, too. You have no idea how thankful I am,' he managed to cut in between kisses.

'Are you staying for the night?,' Kurt asked, backing out a little.

'I wish I could, but we're leaving for West Point early, and I have to get my clothes anyway. And get my beauty sleep.'

He sent Kurt a smile.

'Too bad. Especially considering you could get your beauty sleep _here_. And I bet it would be more pleasant than at some dorm.' Kurt grinned playfully. 'But clothes… I get that.'

After they had kissed and hugged goodbye in the doorway, Puck stopped Kurt in the room.

'You two look good together.'

'Thanks,' Kurt said with a smile.

Yes, they did.

* * *

Blaine returned to Greenpoint early in the morning, just in time to have coffee with Kurt before his parents showed up to pick them and Rachel up for West Point. The others were renting another car, and were supposed to swing by the NYADA dorms and help with the instruments and amps. Even though the concert wasn't starting until five p.m., they had to show up at Keller much earlier, so that everything could be thoroughly rehearsed.

Kurt got squeezed onto the back seat between Blaine and Rachel; he was fine with it only because he had an excuse to snuggle his side up his boyfriend's. Blaine didn't seem to mind it at all either, and took Kurt's hand the moment the car set out. They paid hardly any attention to whatever was going on in the car, unless they were addressed directly – which they weren't very often. They spent the hour and a half on exchanging lingering looks, and enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's touch.

Once at Keller, Kurt announced he had to check whether everything was fine with the lecture hall, and Blaine volunteered to keep him company. They directed their steps down the quiet, almost entirely empty corridors. Kurt's hand wandered into Blaine's palm, their fingers interlocking.

It seemed to them everything was prepared, and soon enough Kurt's cell started ringing.

'So we're here, but we have no idea where to go now,' said Puck on the other side of the line.

They were then forced to make a trip back to the parking lot to guide ex-Glee clubbers and NYADA musicians into the hospital.

As they neared the van that brought the backing band and most of their stuff, Blaine noticed a familiar, yet unexpected figure amongst the small crowd.

'What are _you_ doing here?,' he asked Trent the moment they reached the car.

'Oh, hi, Blaine, Kurt.'

The latter's eyebrows shot up; Blaine had told him Trent had abandoned his d-bag ways, but neither him, nor his boyfriend expected to see him in West Point.

'I just thought I'd help out. And you never know how many people will show up, so if you need to have some fake crowd, I'll be it.'

Trent turned to get an amplifier out of the cavernous trunk.

'Okay, so that was weird,' stated Kurt, turning to look at a shocked Blaine.

'Oh yeah.'

* * *

The couple of hours left before lunch were spent on intensive rehearsal, until everyone agreed everything sounded just right. In the middle of the practice session Finn hobbled into the lecture hall, just to be kicked out ruthlessly by Kurt.

'You're going to hear it along with all the regular people, now off you go!,' he scolded his brother, shutting the door in his face.

When lunchtime came, the hospital cafeteria was buzzing; they were even forced to wait for a table, the crowd of visiting families was so great. Kurt managed to listen in on some of the conversations conducted around them and establish that the show was a much talked about topic, and they didn't have to worry they'd play for an audience of four.

Suddenly, amongst the hubbub of the cafeteria, Kurt noticed a hand waving at him. It took him a moment to see the body it was attached to, and recognized it – with some uneasiness – as Sean.

'Um- Blaine- Sean's waving at me. Do you think we could…?' He checked Blaine's expression; he could swear his face twitched slightly before he answered.

'Sure.'

Kurt grasped Blaine's hand firmly, and they marched through the crowd, picking their way between tables and people to the other, much quieter side of the cafeteria. Sean was sitting across from a man, whom Kurt recognized as the nurse's boyfriend, at a long, otherwise empty table.

'Hi, Kurt. I noticed you're in a need of a table, so maybe you want to join us?' Sean flashed him a pleasant smile, which Kurt automatically mirrored. 'Oh, and this is Vince, by the way.'

'Pleasure,' said Kurt, extending his free right hand to Vince. 'And this is my boyfriend, Blaine.'

Blaine couldn't help, but beam at the way Kurt introduced him.

'But there are more of us, won't that be a problem?,' Kurt asked, motioning in the direction of the rest.

'Oh, that won't be a problem, I guess. It would actually be a nice thing not to have people turn away from our table, when they don't know how to act around us.' Sean shrugged, but it clearly bothered him.

'Well then, this will probably be the gayest lunch party in the history of Keller Army Community Hospital. Not to mention the most fabulous.' Kurt beckoned to the rest to join them. And he could see Sean's jaw drop a little as he introduced some of his friends. But it was a positive surprise.

* * *

The show was due to start in five minutes, and patients were filling the room along with their families. Kurt could easily see a resemblance between Finn and the other injured soldiers; some had the dead eyes he had when he was first wheeled into the hospital, others smiled with the same uncertainty as Finn in the last few days.

Few seats were left unoccupied, and familiar faces could be spotted in the first rows. Now it was time. Just a minute more to wait for latecomers.

Blaine gave Kurt an encouraging grin from the first row, where all the performers were sitting.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, as he always did when speaking publicly or performing, Kurt ascended the few steps leading onto the tiny stage.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' he began, 'welcome to the first ever Thanksgiving concert at Keller Army Community Hospital. I am very glad to see you in such great numbers. The purpose of this event is to show our soldiers our love and undying support. Let them remember there are people around them, who will always be there for them, who will love them unconditionally, and who will help them through whatever they are coming through. We might not be able to fully understand what they have suffered, but we're here to listen, or to be silent with them, to hug, and to say everything will be fine in the end.' Kurt paused, feeling the first lonesome tear rolling down his cheek. 'I also wanted to thank the person who inspired me to organize this show in the first place. My brother, Finn. Or, as you, soldiers, would call him, PFC Hudson. Thank you for fighting. Both here, and there.' He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 'And now, let me introduce you to the first of our performers, tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, Blaine Anderson.'

He ran down the steps to squeeze Blaine's hand encouragingly before he went on stage.

Kurt spent the entire performance watching Blaine, as mesmerized as he was the first time he'd heard him sing the song in rehearsal, and almost missed the moment, when he was to announce Santana and Brittany. Only the loud applause that followed reminded him of his responsibilities as the host.

_What a shame we all became such fragile, broken things_, Santana began the song, and Kurt looked around; the audience seemed to love the performance.

And when his eyes slid down the front row, he caught a glimpse of two hands – one feminine and tiny, the other huge and gangly – interwoven and rested in a girl's lap that was dressed in a Chanel skirt he himself had advised to buy. Kurt smiled; he never doubted there would be a reunion between the two of them. And he was already looking forward to having Rachel as a sister-in-law.

The next performer was Puck, and his rendition of _Roll Away Your Stone_ ended with an applause that could make eardrums burst. He smiled widely and lifted his guitar triumphantly.

'That's for you, dude,' he said, pointing at Finn, who was now positively beaming, for the first time in months.

'Kurt!' Rachel's loud whisper made him look away from the stage.

'_What?_'', he mouthed.

'Go introduce me!'

He frowned; she was supposed to perform as the last before the group number. He shook his head.

'No, it's my turn.'

'Don't be silly. You deserve the last spot. Go introduce me!'

'Really?' Disbelief shaped his features.

'Yeah! Go!' She seemed not to notice anything strange in the situation. Maybe she didn't remember how she used to fight for the spotlight in Glee club, or maybe she simply matured.

Still somewhat shocked, Kurt went up to the stage one more time.

'And now, miss Rachel Berry will perform _Hope for the Hopeless_.'

She beamed at him from the first row, before taking the spot behind the microphone.

Rachel sang, and the audience teared up. Carole was practically sobbing into a Kleenex, with Burt's arm around her shoulders.

And when the song ended, Rachel didn't leave the stage. She waited until the last claps died out.

'Now I'd like to introduce to you the man responsible for putting this show together. The most loving, humble, gentle, and honest person I have ever met in my life. My best friend in the entire world, and probably the best friend anyone could have. The best brother in the world, and probably one of the best men there are. And though maybe it doesn't show, one of the bravest I know. Ladies and gentlemen, Kurt Hummel!'

Kurt dried his eyes with a quick movement of his hand, and caught Rachel in a hug on the stage.

The music started, hypnotizing the audience one more time, and squeezing tears from the remaining few still dry eyes.

_Lights will guide you home and ignite your soul, and I will try to fix you_.

He sang the first chorus looking straight into Finn's eyes, then his eyes drifted in Blaine's direction and never looked away again. Kurt could see the tears swimming in his boyfriend's eyes, mirroring those filling his own.

And for the first time in years he felt perfectly intact. As if the cracks in his soul had never existed. As if his shattered being was glued together with a magic spell, restoring it to its initial ideal form.

And the tears that flooded Blaine's eyes weren't those of sadness. He could feel how the hole in his chest was filling up, mending itself with the happiness that almost couldn't be contained by his body. The chunk of flesh that once had been there was gone forever, but something else replaced it, as if a fragment of another being. Kurt seemed to have crept into his heart, occupying the space that had been empty for so long.

Finally it was time for the last performance, and Kurt somehow managed to call everyone back to the stage. The moment Blaine approached him, Kurt grasped his hand tightly. He didn't care what anyone would think about it, he painfully missed Blaine's touch on his skin.

And they sang _Lean On Me_ together, remembering the one time they had done it in Glee club, so long ago.

The audience looked at them smiling through the tears. And even those who had earlier seemed barely alive, were swaying now in their seats, some even joining them in the song.

* * *

Kurt led Blaine out into the patch of trees behind the hospital. They had barely had a minute alone the whole day.

'That was really amazing,' Blaine broke the silence, stroking Kurt's hand with his fingers.

'You think so?'

'Absolutely.' He stopped, and made Kurt face him. 'I'm so proud of you.'

Kurt smiled timidly.

'I didn't do that much. And you were incredible,' he murmured, closing in to kiss Blaine.

'You did everything. And thank you,' he said before kissing his boyfriend back.

'You're welcome.'

And then their lips were much too busy to talk anymore.

* * *

**A/N: **I cannot believe it's already chapter 14!

And am I the only one furious with Kurt for what a complete jerk he was to Blaine in _Makeover_?

Anyway, completely unexpectedly for myself, yesterday I posted the first chapter of the latest story I started writing, _Unintended_, and there are already three chapters of _Letters from Somewhere_ up. So, if you like my writing enough to give another of my stories a shot, feel free to check them out!

Chapter 15 will be up on Wednesday, and the Epilogue next Saturday.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

'Are you kidding?! Your brother turned down an audition for a David Lynch movie?,' Kurt exclaimed, causing a few heads in the coffee shop to turn in their direction. 'Seriously?'

Blaine laughed.

'Yeah. Though Lynch is just producing or something. Cooper said he could do better.' He shook his head. 'All Christmas we were bugging him about that. Well, I was.'

He paused to take a sip of his coffee. Kurt was sitting across from him, watching him with a small warm smile.

'I love you,' Kurt said all of a sudden, almost making Blaine choke on his coffee.

It took him a moment to swallow and collect his thoughts enough to fully process what Kurt had just told him.

'I love you, too.' He smiled tentatively, while the corners of his boyfriend's mouth pulled up a fraction higher.

They continued to stare into each other's eyes for a moment, relishing it. With those few simple words spoken out loud they felt as if whatever was between them finally got real, serious, and more tangible. Kurt extended his hand to hold Blaine's over the table.

This was certainly real.

* * *

It was still quite early for starting any New Year's Eve party, when Kurt and Blaine entered the club at which they and a group of other NYADA students had reservations for the night. The place was almost entirely empty, save for a few employees scurrying around and making the final adjustments before the tide of people rushes in to celebrate, and a handful of lonesome customers scattered at the tables on the far end of the dance floor.

Kurt wasn't much of a clubber, and neither was Blaine, but after a few days of constant nagging, Rachel managed to convince them to come with her. She was bringing Finn along, as his physical therapy was drawing to a successful close, and his psychiatrist decided it was time to take him off some of the strongest psychoactives short before Christmas. Kurt was more keen on enduring a few hours in a packed club for the sake of his brother's spirits, rather than Rachel's whim. And Blaine simply couldn't imagine spending their first New Year's Eve apart from Kurt, especially after being separated by six hundred miles on Christmas.

When their eyes adjusted to the bluish light, Blaine noticed someone waving at them from one of the far tables. He squinted, trying to make the face out.

'Oh, that's Trent,' he told Kurt over the still relatively quiet music.

'Let's go say hi.' He motioned in Trent's direction.

'You go. I'll get us some drinks and I'll be there in a minute.'

Kurt nodded in agreement, and reluctantly let Blaine's hand go. Trent was occupying a low deep booth with leather benches, and sipping a beer. Kurt raised his eyebrows.

'Aren't you nineteen?'

Trent smiled crookedly at him.

'Guilty. What are you guys doing here already, anyway?'

'We didn't want to come when the club's already ripping at the seams, so to speak. And you?'

'I was meeting my brother, 'cause he came to town for New Year's, and then he said he was supposed to go somewhere else for the night, and it didn't make much sense to go back to the dorms, so I came here.' He grimaced slightly, glancing furtively to measure Kurt's reaction. For a second he regretted having shared so much; they weren't close friends with Kurt, even though his relations with Blaine had warmed up significantly beginning with the show in West Point.

But Kurt nodded with understanding.

'It's hard, isn't it? Having a bad relationship with your brother?'

There was something in Kurt that made him incredibly easy to talk to; he radiated empathy and understanding, even when his own experiences were entirely different.

'Yeah. You have no idea.'

'True, I don't.' Kurt paused. 'Blaine told me, you know. About your brother and all that… And I'm glad that now you and Blaine are getting along. I hope someday everything's going to work out with you and your brother.' He gave Trent a small smile.

'Thanks, Kurt.' He bit his lip, clearly considering whether to say something more. 'Me too. I wish it got better.'

The appearance of Blaine with their drinks put an end to their heart to heart.

* * *

Kurt's head was close to exploding from the onslaught of ridiculously loud electronic music on his ears. He was quite convinced his eardrums had already burst, and his skull was next in line. Blaine on the other hand was having a marvelous time, prancing around the dance floor with a delighted Rachel. Finn was still not well enough physically to keep up with her for another hour, so he was sitting next to Kurt in their booth, sipping his orange juice, and watching his fiancée. They had renewed their engagement during Christmas, on a romantic walk in Central Park.

Soon Blaine and Rachel got thirsty from all the dancing, and joined them at the table. Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt.

'Wanna dance?,' he asked, shouting into his ear, his eyes twinkling.

'No, Blaine, really, Rachel seems to be enjoying having you all to herself,' Kurt shouted back at him.

In this instant the music changed into something much slower and more subtle.

'But it's a slow one.'

Kurt rolled his eyes, while his boyfriend dragged him out to the dance floor. They put their arms around each other, swaying gently to the rhythm.

'Wouldn't you want to go somewhere else?,' Kurt asked after a moment. 'How about Times Square? I know it's packed, but…'

Blaine looked up straight into his eyes.

'You want to get out of here?'

A short nod was Kurt's answer.

'Then I want to go to your place.'

Kurt's eyes widened. Oh. What _that_ really what Blaine implied?

'But it's not even ten yet… You sure?'

'Yes, I'm sure. You?'

Instead of saying anything more, Kurt smiled at him, and tugged him through the crowd towards their booth to tell the others they were leaving.

They took a cab to Greenpoint, glancing at each other all the way, when they felt the stare of the driver – who was visibly frustrated that he was working while everyone else was having fun – falling on them in the rearview mirror every other minute.

The building was dark and silent when they arrived. They hurried up the stairs, never letting each other's hands go, stealing kisses on every landing and in between storeys. Kurt opened the door hastily, and once it shut behind them, their coats fell to the floor, soon followed by other elements of their outfits.

And when fireworks lit up the sky over New York City, they were lying snuggled close in Kurt's bed, without a trace of awkwardness, perfectly content.

'Happy New Year, Blaine,' murmured Kurt.

'It will be happy, I wouldn't worry about it.'

'Why?'

'Because I have you.'

* * *

It was a lazy July afternoon in the Anderson house. Kurt and Blaine took advantage of having the huge residence to themselves, and sat on the immensely comfortable sofa in front of the gigantic plasma TV to watch _West Side Story_, each of them for an umpteenth time.

They cuddled in front of the screen with a bowl of popcorn and cans of diet coke in their hands, feasting all their senses.

'You'd be a perfect Tony,' said Kurt midway through _Something's Coming_, glancing at his boyfriend lovingly.

'You think so?' Blaine couldn't help a small smile.

'Absolutely.'

Their eyes went back to the screen for a long while, their mouths busy chewing popcorn.

And then, the first notes of _One Hand, One Heart_ started playing and Kurt flinched. For one more moment his eyes stayed glued to Tony and Maria, and then he turned to Blaine.

'Will you marry me?'

Blaine's head snapped up. He frowned; there was no way he'd just heard… _that_.

'What?'

Kurt slipped to the floor and onto one knee, facing Blaine.

'Blaine Anderson, would you consider doing me the honour of becoming my husband?'

'I- I can't see a ring,' he choked out after a moment.

'I'll get us rings. Just tell me. Will you marry me?'

Kurt held his breath.

'Yes, of course I will.'

Relief washed over Kurt, when Blaine smiled, leaning to kiss him.

And then Kurt sat back on the couch, snuggling to Blaine – to _his fiancé_ – and they finished watching, both shedding a few tears at the end. But even the saddest movie ending in the world couldn't mar their happiness.

* * *

**A/N: **Updating just the tiniest bit earlier today, because I'm back at uni now and I'm in between classes (doing this in the middle of my Russian class wouldn't be a very good idea I guess). Anyhow, it's Wednesday here, so here we go.

Now it's just the epilogue on Saturday and the story will be over. I don't know about you, but I find it utterly unbelievable. Even though it's been a month today since I finished writing it.

And I hope you're all ready for the drama of The Break-Up. I sure as hell am not ready, nor will I ever be. I'll probably spent the whole Friday sobbing in a corner (and I have a class to get to on Friday, I have no idea how I'm going to pull that of!).


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Years seeped by, seeing Kurt and Blaine's graduations, their Broadway debuts, the day they became Mr and Mr Anderson-Hummels, and those when they adopted their daughter, and then their son. Their love never grew weaker, and it could even be argued they loved each other more and more with each new wrinkle and each new gray hair.

They had successful careers, but the bliss they shared as a family was what really made them happy. They rarely fought, seeing eye to eye on almost everything, understanding each other without words, as they had since they were teenagers. Nothing could truly stand between them.

There were tougher times, as there are in any relationship, but their love conquered everything. It was always stronger than whatever crisis came their way.

Finally, once they retired, they bought a beautiful house right outside New York City; they wanted to stay close to the kids, who now had their own families, but they also wanted to have a little peace and quiet to enjoy simply being together. The house stood at the edge of a lake, and every morning they would wake to the sunshine reflected by its waters.

And fifty years after that one July afternoon, Kurt and Blaine were sitting on the porch of their house, cuddled as they had gotten used to do through the years, waiting for their kids to arrive for a family dinner.

And even though the once smooth skin of their faces wrinkled, Blaine's hair thinned and was threaded with silver, while Kurt's was as thick as it had always been, though no longer a shade of brown, but almost completely white.

They were basking in the warm summer sun, watching its rays dance on the tiny waves on the lake, until a distant sound of a car engine disrupted the pleasurable silence.

'They're coming,' Kurt sighed.

'Well, we'll get our peace and quiet back.'

They chuckled.

'You know I don't mind this kind of noise.' Kurt took his husband's hand in his own. The gesture had become as natural as breathing.

A car stopped in the driveway, soon followed by another.

And Kurt and Blaine went hand in hand down the porch steps.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N:** OMG, this is really the end! I cannot believe it.

Thank you a thousand times to all of you, who read the story, and gave me feedback, I'm so happy you stuck around until the end!

And I hope this little happy picture of our boys (though not so much_ boys_ anymore) cheers you up after 4x04, at least a tiny bit.


End file.
